In This Heart of Darkness
by lyn452
Summary: *Sequel to Only A Hero* Eight years later...Helena finds love as Huntress battles the Harleytwins and Deathstroke.
1. Prologue: Past Tense

**Prologue- Past Tense**

Harleen Quinzel always knew, even when her worthless father walked out on her at the age of six, that she would be someone special. An independent woman with a successful career, someone to be respected, treated well, even feared. She would be famous. When the doctor told her she'd need knee surgery after she fell off the balance beam when she was fifteen, she knew it wouldn't be by being a world-class gymnast. So she switched plans though it took her awhile to figure out. But her sophomore year in College, the Rogues and Batman took Gotham by storm, and Harleen knew that the first person who got close enough to one of them would be her ticket. Psychology was her best class so she thought up a plan where she would work at Arkham with some of the biggest names in insanity, write a tell-all, and transform that into a brief stint on radio until someone noticed how well her face would translate to television. It was perfect. And the plan was going along perfectly...

Until she met him.

The Joker was the biggest name of big names, so she was naturally the most interested in him. But she never anticipated just how amazing he would be. He was the first man she didn't figure out in a minute. He was the first man who actually intrigued her. It didn't take long for that intrigue to turn to obsession and that obsession to turn to love. And thus, Harley Quinn was born.

Harley Quinn had all the white picket fence dreams that Harleen never understood. Harleen only saw success in her future; Harley imagined a happily ever after with the 2.5 children, her Mister J and the hyenas.

When Harley found out she was pregnant the first time, she was surprised. No one else would've been considering the lack of birth control, but that's what happens when you're insane and in love. She bounded over to her Mister J, pigtails bouncing, knowing he'd be excited as she was. His reaction hadn't been what she was expecting. His face betrayed no emotion as he walked to a nearby drug store, stealing all the pregnancy tests and shooting the clerk for good measure. He returned and threw Harley down the stairs until the plus sign became a negative. Harley learned that those tests still worked when you pissed blood.

The next time Harley found herself with child the Joker didn't bother with the tests and the stairs, he just aimed every heavy blow to her stomach. The time following that Harley booked an appointment as she and the Joker were broken up at the time, and Pammy insisted he'd use the child to control.

The fourth time, though, the forth time she kept the child that turned out to be children.

They were all she had left of him.

* * *

The only odd thing about Amy Dennis was her refusal to date. When the pretty blonde had arrived in the small town, pregnant and taking the open school counselor position, most assumed she'd been looking for a fresh start in the quiet town. As Miss Dennis wasn't too quiet herself, it became well known that a fresh start for her and her twin girls was exactly what she was looking for. The woman was known for her chattiness about everything except the girls' father. When he was mentioned she immediately closed up refusing to say anything more then he'd died. After a long enough time had passed, many men made a play for the single woman, but she refused them all. No one else understood, didn't she want a father for her children?

Of course, if anyone in the small town had known that Amy Dennis was Harley Quinn, they may have better understood her refusal. Though, that would've opened a whole new set of questions.

* * *

Harley found that the house was lonely when the girls went off to College, and couldn't have been happier that they were graduated and back, "taking some time off until the plunge into the real world." However, Harley couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness because even though they were back, the girls seemed distant. They were always off on their own, and whenever she saw them they were giggling in a familiar way that sent chills down her spine.

One day, she was reading the latest romance novel by her favorite author, entitled _Mad Love_. She enjoyed it as she always did, but the source of the material was obvious and the doomed insane clown plotline was too close to home to be comfortable.

"Mom." The light voice made Harley jump, and she turned to see her pretty blonde twins.

They'd taken after her in looks almost completely, which Harley was secretly thankful for; it would've been hard to explain naturally green hair. They did have their father's height and sharp features. "Deirdre, you scared me half to death."

Deirdre was the leader of the two; she possessed a sharp wit and graduated with a double major in chemistry and psychology against her sister Delia's art degree. She cocked an eyebrow at her mother and expressed her wicked wit. "Only half? How disappointing."

Harley was not amused, but Delia giggled softly, tossing her blonde tresses behind her ears. Deirdre continued, "Mom, Delia and I wanted to let you know that we're going to live in Gotham."

Harley paled but didn't let any emotion but curiosity show, "Why Gotham? Dee-Dee, it's so far away." Harley often referred to her girls as Dee-Dee, in reference to them as a unit and singularly.

The girls began to pace around their mother, the way a villain does when they've captured the hero. Deirdre continued to be the spokeswoman, "Do you remember that book I was so excited about?"

Harley did, _Gotham's Most Notorious—the Rogues_, the book she'd been planning on writing until she became chapter 22 (which no doubt infuriated Two-Face). Deirdre had loved the book, quickly developing an obsession on the topic, making her mother nervous. This grew to out-right panic when Deirdre's thesis had been on her favorite Rogue, the Joker. As it did with everything else, Deirdre's obsession rubbed off on Delia whose thesis had been titled, "Grotesque Humor: A Tribute to the Joker." It'd been protested against, which she argued made it all the greater. All of this ran through Harley's mind but she kept her reply to a simple, "Yes."

"Well, Mother," Deirdre's eyes connected with her mother's and the violet flecks within the blue seemed to more brightly than usual. "We've found it strange that you never talk about father or your past, except to say you loved him dearly and you lived in Gotham, but couldn't stay after he passed on."

Delia spoke, her face so close to Harley's ear, she could feel the breath, "When I worked on my thesis, I studied the Joker's face for hours, his lips, his teeth, his eyes, his nose—my nose. The Joker had my nose."

Deirdre had moved to be on the other side of her mother, "Or more accurately, we have his."

Fear, like a dead weight, dropped to the pit of her stomach.

The twins slowly moved to face their mother, but stayed on opposite sides. Delia spoke, "It all fit, so well."

Deirdre took her turn, "Of course we don't have any other family."

"No wonder you refused to move on after dad."

"Who could replace the Joker?"

"What mortal man could follow in the footsteps of his greatness?"

Harley could no longer stand it, "Stop it! Just stop it you two, you're better than this, better and stronger than me."

Deirdre smirked, "Can't argue with that."

She placed a previously hidden unmarked canister on the coffee table in front of Harley, who was too familiar with the contents of unmarked canisters. "No one has ever been able to duplicate the Joker's laughing gas, but I think I figured it out. So answer our questions or be the first human test subject, Mother."

"Don't you dare threaten your mother!" Harley screamed, nearly rising from her seat.

Deirdre cocked an eyebrow, "I think I just did." She pointed her concealed gun at her mother, and Delia followed suit, smiling broadly. "Now sit down, mommy dearest."

Harley sat.

* * *

When it was finished, Harley was exhausted. Deirdre picked up her canister and replaced it and her gun. She smiled at her mother and hugged her, kissing her right cheek, "Good-bye, mommy."

She walked away as Delia bounced over to her mother as well, hugging her and kissing the other cheek, "Love ya." It was said in a tone worthy of Harley Quinn. The door shut behind them.

Harley felt cold, too cold to even sob. She was alone again.


	2. Chapter One: Anything But Love

**Chapter One- Anything But Love**

Barbara was in mood. And while Dick could cite several examples of his bravery, he preferred to continue living instead of asking if she was going through menopause. In fact, he was taking careful steps to avoid pissing off a woman who could easily make his life a living hell. Step one was living with Helena while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. Bruce had taken Alfred to the other side of the country for an experimental treatment. Alfred tried to refuse, but Bruce wouldn't be stopped. Dick moved in the next day. Currently, he was scouring through the news on the Batcomputer as he waited for her return. It wasn't long before the empty cavern filled with the noise of a revved up engine. Dick didn't bother talking to her until she changed, knowing she wouldn't respond before she was out of costume anyway.

She spoke first. "Where's my coffee?"

Oops. Dick gave her his best "aren't I too adorable to be angry with" smile and replied sheepishly, "I forgot."

She was not amused. "Damn it, Dick! I ask for one thing in exchange for you hiding out from Barbara!" She nearly shattered the glass as she put the coffee pot on with much more force than necessary. "It's not rocket science, which I could have you doing, by the way. The Watchtower needs some repairs, though God knows I'd just end up fixing whatever mess you made."

Dick knew it was a weak response before the words left his mouth, "I'm not hiding out from Barbara."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "I believe your exact words were, 'Helena, you need to save me from Babs, she's nuts.' Or something like that."

"I was a performer at one point, I was being dramatic." Seeing he was getting nowhere, Dick settled on a different approach. "Technically, the house and cave are Bruce's, not yours. I could give him a call and ask if he'll let me stay here."

Helena pushed the start button furiously. "And I'll follow-up your phone call with one explaining why shouldn't stay here." She crossed her arms and looked at him with a wicked glint in her blue eyes. "Who do you think will win that one?"

Dick cursed. He'd forgotten that Helena had no problem fighting dirty. Bruce had a favorite child, and made little secret of who it was. Dick decided to let it drop, before she actually did kick him out. "The Harleytwins have been laying low for a while; you might want to keep on that."

Helena tied her hair back, as she always did when not Huntress. "On what? Nothing?"

"It's the Harleytwins, it's not nothing."

Helena began to take out her contacts, replacing them with glasses completing the nerdy, repressed doctor trying to restore the family's good name from a disgraceful father look. "I've won every time I've gone up against them."

"Really? How many times have you caught them?"

She caught the time on the clock; she was going to be late to the hospital if she didn't get going. "Twice. It's the cops that let them get away."

Dick's lighthearted teasing dropped and his demeanor darkened. "Deathstroke is back."

He handed her a very full file, which she quickly thumbed through. "None of these are from Gotham."

Helena was aware that dismissing a Deathstroke case with Dick would've been like dismissing a Joker case with Bruce, but really, Deathstroke had been retired for years. Why would he show up again now? She said as much. Dick shook his head. "It's Deathstroke. Look at the pattern, you have to…"

"I need to go to work and save lives. If you really want an able body on this contact the Justice League. Or better yet, the Teen Titans; I'm sure one of them has nothing better to do." She grabbed her finished coffee.

Again, Dick knew when to drop it. "Are you seriously going to work with no sleep?"

"I don't have time for sleep."

"Just like you don't have time for dating? Or a life in general?"

"You sound like my mother."

"Well, Selina's a smart lady, and sex is worth making the time."

"I barely have enough free time to sleep and you want me to fill it with a relationship and sex?"

Dick sighed. "Have you ever even had sex?"

"I'm not answering that anywhere my father is likely to hear."

"Bruce is on the other side of the country with Alfred."

She looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "We're in the Batcave, Dick."

Dick shrugged. "Fair enough. But you should engage is some normal 29 year old activity, including dating." He wiggled his eyebrows, "Jason's always had a thing for you."

Now Helena sighed. "I'll flirt with a patient today. Will that appease you?"

"No because you'll flirt with some old man. Come on, Jason is convenient…" Dick hesitated before continuing on, "…and attractive."

"Well then, Dick, you can date him." He didn't look amused. Helena gave a fake pout and then sauntered up to him with an extra pop in her hips. "Besides you're much more convenient…" She looked him up and down and dropped her voice an octave, "…and attractive."

Dick was pretty sure she was joking, but he gulped anyway. "That would go badly, and I'm pretty sure it's a form of incest."

With her free hand, Helena began to caress his chest ever so gently. "We're not blood, and it'd only be taboo if we were raised together."

Dick removed her hand. "Well, I still have to pass, but will reconsider if you flirt with the first attractive patient your age."

Helena gave another fake pout as she moved to walk up the stairs and out of the cave. She called over her shoulder, "But none of them will have your butt, Dick!"

Dick laughed long after the echo that signaled her departure.

* * *

"He's been beaten pretty badly," the nurse warned Helena as she handed her the chart.

Helena had gotten a look at the handcuffed patient and recognized him as the attempted rapist she'd handled the previous night. She made a show of looking at his chart though she already knew his injuries. Two broken ribs (broken ribs from hard kicks were becoming a staple of hers as she was loathe to damage her hands), and a concussion with a bleed from a head smashed against the wall. She put the chart down and moved to examine the head as Dr. Meredith Drake, wife of Tim Drake, walked in.

It was pure coincidence that Helena wound up working with Tim's wife. She didn't even know what Tim's wife did for a living until she started her internship. As it turned out, she was the brain surgeon Helena aspired to become. It wasn't long until Meredith was studying films and telling Helena to book an OR.

It was always bittersweet to work on someone she'd rough up. While part of her took some pleasure in fixing what she'd broken, mostly she just felt guilty for getting carried away. When she was fighting, she was always careful not to inflict any life-ending injuries. But life as a doctor had taught her it didn't take much for something to go wrong and for someone to end up dead. She admired and adhered to Batman's no kill rule, but knew it wasn't as simple as most superheroes believed it to be. Last week, her patient died from a broken leg. The patient hadn't gotten it properly treated and was infected beyond repair. How many villains wound up with broken bones? How many of them avoided proper treatment to save themselves from the cops?

Though she never pointed any of this out to her colleagues, they couldn't handle guilt and doubt well.

It wasn't long before the elderly anesthesiologist, Dr. Edward Crane, spoke up, "This is why vigilantes should be stopped. They're as monstrous as the ones they protect us from."

Dr. Drake responded, "I, for one, am happy to have someone who can break a full grown man's bones standing between my family and people like the Harleytwins."

Under her mask, Helena smiled. She could always count on Meredith to defend her.

"The Huntress could just as easily come after you though. If the law doesn't govern them, what does?"

"If the Huntress is confronting you, there's a reason for it. Better that then someone who'll kill you because it's Tuesday."

"It's wrong, Meredith. How you could possibly think otherwise is beyond me." He looked over to Helena. "What do you think, Dr. Wayne?"

Helena imagined the secret smile under Meredith's mask. Helena shrugged, "Never gave the whole vigilante thing much thought, really."

"See that's the problem, it's starting to become just the way life is. When did the crazies inherit the world?"

Helena and Meredith exchanged looks and tuned out the rest of Dr. Crane's rant.

* * *

"I have a special case for you."

Helena was intrigued, Meredith didn't give special treatment. Why was this different? Meredith handed her the chart, after looking at the name Helena understood. "Are you kidding me?"

"No." Meredith grabbed the chart for the patient she was about to visit, "I thought it'd be appropriate, as you are famous as well."

"I'm no rock star."

"And you are the only resident I have who will remain professional." She walked away.

Helena resisted the strong urge to grumble and complain. She read the rest of his chart discovering that the reason for his visit was that a stage light had fallen and hit his head. She went down the hall to see her first attractive patient and wondered if this is what Dick had in mind. She entered the patient's room and captured his attention immediately, "Hallo luv."

Ryan Grant, rock legend, age 29, looked as good in person as he did on his _Rolling Stone _cover. Helena guessed from his accent that he was Welsh, near the border of Britain if she wasn't mistaken. "Mr. Grant, I'm Doctor…"

He smiled, dazzling white teeth under sparkling blue eyes, "There's no need for such formalities. I'm Ryan."

He stuck out his hand, but she didn't accept it. "I'll be examining you."

As she began to look at the gash on his head, he asked, "Aren't you a little young to be a doctor? I mean, not to sound egotistical, but don't I warrant more than an intern?"

"I'm a resident and you do warrant a private room. And not to sound egotisical, but in a few years I will be the doctor you want."

He leered at her, "Never said I didn't want you."

Helena sighed. It was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter Two: Whispers in the Dark

**Chapter Two – Whispers in the Dark**

Dick was surprised to find Helena in the Batcave, drinking coffee like a vampire would blood. "When do you sleep?"

Helena didn't take her eyes off the screen. "I got back from my patrol late, and there's no point in trying to sleep when you've got that much adrenaline coursing through your veins. I'll be leaving for work in a few."

Dick caught her grimace at the mention of work. "Since when do you not like work?"

"Since Ryan Grant became my patient. The man doesn't give up. It's all your fault, you know, you and your flirt with an attractive patient." Dick laughed, and Helena let him. Really, what other reaction could she expect from him? "What brings you down here anyway?"

"I wanted to work out. Bruce called and woke me up." His tone became much softer. "It's a no-go with Alfred. They'll be back in a few days."

Helena nodded. Dick wasn't like Bruce or his daughter, and grew uncomfortable in the silence. He noticed the picture of his old nemesis, Deathstroke, on the vid screen. Now he was curious. "What are you working on?"

"You were right. Deathstroke is definitely back, but I don't think it's the same one."

He moved in closer, leaning over her. "Just because he changed his outfit?"

She looked insulted. "No. I've been running it through analysis. This man is two inches taller than the one you battled."

He'd done the initial work, so he knew, but asked anyway. "Then why do you even think it's him?"

"It carries all of his signatures," Helena said with an air of indifference.

Dick, on the other hand, was far from indifferent. "So you're finally going to give this the attention it deserves?"

Helena sighed, "No, Dick. I'm not."

Dick could feel the anger rising. "Why not?"

"Because, Dick, Deathstroke and the Harleytwins, there's nothing to go on." She rose from her seat. "I don't have time to chase after phantoms."

Dick stood up straighter, towering over her. "They aren't phantoms, but very real threats."

With a motion of her hand, the vid screen changed to show a good-looking Italian. "This is Paul Triboni, the newest head of the Gotham crime syndicate. He's a real threat as well, one whose location I know, whose next move I may actually be able to predict. He's my main threat right now."

Dick couldn't contain himself and began, "Bruce would never…"

Helena was fed up now. "I'm not my father. I have more to juggle than he ever did. I cannot show up to my job half asleep or I'll kill someone, plus babysitting the Justice League, keeping Gotham and my secrets safe, being the face for the Wayne Foundation and caring from emotionally-stunted parents. It's a lot to handle, and if you want someone on Deathstroke, you can handle him, Circus boy."

Dick had a lot of smart-ass remarks to her little rant, but knew from experience it was just best to let Helena alone when she was stressed. She sighed, speaking more calmly this time, "Dick, there is nothing I can do with the Harleytwins or Deathstroke at the moment. Now, Paul Triboni, I can do something about."

Dick let himself calm down. "I get it, Hel."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that."

He smiled, returning to the good mood he often found himself in when in Helena's company.

She pulled her hair back. "Well, I'm off to work and then a Justice League meeting."

He couldn't help but get a jab in before she left. "Enjoy your rock star."

Helena rolled her eyes as she filled her thermos with what was sure to be necessary coffee. "Don't remind me."

* * *

Ryan Grant was immensely enjoying his stay at Gotham Hospital, which was odd; not just because he was in the hospital, but also he was in Gotham. That's not to say there was nothing Ryan liked about Gotham. The old-world Gothic architecture reminded him of his native Europe, and he admired the tough attitude of the Gotham people. But in his view, the city lacked class and charm, and while he enjoyed darkness (he lived in it after all), he wasn't so sure he wanted to be constantly surrounded by it. He'd always found Gotham's all-consuming dark nature oppressive.

But then he met a woman who embodied Gotham and fell in love with the city, a woman named Helena.

The doctor was the first woman in a long time that could hold her own in a fight against him. Beautiful, intelligent and intriguing – he found himself hoping something was seriously wrong with him so he could continue seeing her. Which, on that the thought about the feeling, might actually be something that was seriously wrong with him.

"Mr. Grant, I need you to focus."

Ryan snapped out of his thoughts, smiling at his physical therapist, who currently was leading him down the halls. "Sorry, luv. But what red-blooded male could focus with a beauty like you around?"

She blushed, despite the fact she'd just been talking about her husband and children. "We should get you back to your room."

He smiled even more brightly, and moved in more closely to her obvious discomfort. "Tell you what, why don't you run and get me some of that lime jello and I'll meet you there."

She shifted, still uncomfortable. "I should really escort you back."

He touched her cheek lightly. "Weren't you just saying that I don't have any negative signs? Please, darling, I haven't had a moment to myself since I got here."

She succumbed to his charm, just like everyone did. "Well, all right."

He smiled after her as she walked away. Once she was out of sight, he took off for the vending machines. He couldn't begin to explain how much he hated hospital food. It made no sense, all of the advances society made in the past fifty years and, still, they couldn't make hospital food taste good.

"Mr. Grant!" He'd recognized that stern command anywhere, Dr. Helena. He grinned, hearing her walking up behind him. "For God's sake, if you're going to run around the hospital in a gown, you could at least wear some underwear."

She was beside him now, looking annoyed. He turned his head to face her. "Why? See something you like?"

She now looked supremely annoyed. "Get back to your room."

He looked at her evenly, and then hooked out his arm. "I will if you escort me."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring his arm. "Fine."

They walked back together in silence, with Ryan constantly looking at Helena. Ryan finally spoke, "So when am I getting out of here, Doc?"

Helena replied softly, "Not soon enough."

He grinned, "Is that your doctor way of telling me I'm dying?"

She stopped walking and glared, "No, that's my doctor way of telling you that you may be the most infuriating patients I've ever treated!"

"Oh, doc, you're making me blush."

For a second, Ryan got the distinct impression that Helena wanted to punch him. Luckily at that moment, they arrived at his room.

"Grant, where were you?"

Ryan was immediately knocked out of flirt-mode after hearing his manager's voice. "What are you doing here?"

Helena excused herself, which slightly upset Ryan, as he wanted a bit more time with her, but he ignored the urge to get her to stay. He went to his bed and climbed in. "What is it, Blane?"

The manager thrust a viewscreen into the rocker's hands. "What do you see?"

Ryan scrolled and saw headline after headline of his "wild exploits." He answered, "A stereotype?"

Blane wasn't amused. "Damn it, Ryan! You can't go through life so recklessly. You were just on the cover of _Rolling Stone_, and just finished a sold-out American tour. You're supposed to be in the studio finishing an album, but instead you're fucking porn stars, doing drugs and flirting with nurses."

Ryan could've said that he wasn't having any sex lately, as he was in a hospital. He could've defended not being in the studio because, once again, he was confined to a hospital. He could've argued that the only drugs he'd been doing were doctor prescribed. He could've used any of that, but what came out of his mouth was "Helena's not a nurse."

"Helena?" Blane sputtered. "I don't care about Helena! Do you realize how close the band is to kicking you out? They are fed up with your antics!"

Ryan frowned. "They're fed up? I was just on the cover of _Rolling Stone _and I write almost all the lyrics and music. They aren't going to kick me out."

Blane sighed. "Don't be so sure, you guys have already been together ten years, which is nearly forever in band years. It's not impossible for a band to break up at this point." He sat down, facing Ryan. "What your need is a good relationship, some woman to give you some credibility, and not another airhead model or slutty party girl."

Ryan sighed. "Let me guess, you have a list."

"No. I'll leave that to you." He collected his things to leave. "But the band has rented a studio in Gotham to finish the album here. Please, Grant, for your own sake, get it together."

Blane left and Ryan looked out the window, not really seeing anything, but carefully considering his manager's words.

"Hello Ryan, I've got your lime jello."

Ryan's head snapped to his physical therapist. He smiled at her, but his heart wasn't really in it.

* * *

Huntress hated Justice League meetings – they always seemed like a waste of time, even when they weren't. So as Superman (aka Jason Kent – Lois and Clark's son) talked, she took advantage of the fact she'd learned to sleep with her eyes open.

Until J'onn interrupted her twenty minutes later with his telepathic link. "You may want to pay attention to this part, Helena."

She blinked and removed her head from its resting spot on her raised hand. She quickly assessed the other members. To her right, J'onn appeared focused on Jason speaking on the other side of him, though she thought for a second she caught a brief smile in her direction. She gave him a quick and rare smile in return.

To her left, Iris – the Flash and daughter of Wally West – was watching Jason intently and taking notes. When she noticed Helena looking at her, she waited until Jason was looking to the other side of the room and passed her notes to Helena, like they were high school students rather than superheroes. Currently, Helena read, Jason was talking about possible future threats to the League and had just mentioned Deathstroke's activity in Gotham. Apparently, he'd been spotted down by the docks by a JLA satellite. No wonder J'onn woke her up. Helena passed the notes back to Iris, not caring who saw her.

Before focusing completely on Jason, Helena continued her assessment of the others. On Jason's right Marina, Aquagirl –Arthur's daughter, was looking up at Jason like a dedicated fangirl. Though, to be fair, Helena wasn't sure of Marina's crush, and since it wasn't affecting the League it wasn't a priority to find out.

Next to her, Conner and Rex were whispering to each other. Conner, Black Arrow, was the son of Oliver and Dinah and was the JL member Helena was most likely to punch in the face at any given time. He had dated Iris briefly, and Helena still didn't understand what she'd found attractive about him beyond his looks. Rex's (Warhawk, John Steward and Shiera's son) friendship with Conner was another thing she never really understood. Though, admittedly, most didn't understand why Iris was friends with her.

Jason wrapped up his Deathstroke point, saying, "We'll keep an eye on the situation and intervene if necessary."

That wouldn't be allowed. "If he's in Gotham, I'll handle it."

Jason seemed surprised by Helena's interruption. "Deathstroke isn't a Gotham rogue, Huntress. He's a proven Justice League one."

"Since reappearing on the scene, this Deathstroke has yet to take any action against the League, the Titans or any superheroes in general. He's simply a very skilled assassin and mercenary."

"This Deathstroke?"

Dick had wasted no time in contacting Jason about Deathstroke, so he was perfectly aware of her theory that the current Deathstroke wasn't the Deathstroke of their fathers' time. Though he was more apt to agree with Dick's theory that it was the same man since he was practically immortal. So she repeated her points of proof, "The man currently acting as Deathstroke is two inches taller than the last man to do so and has a different body build. These aren't things that change, no matter how much time has passed."

Conner, never one to pass up an opportunity to disagree with Helena, spoke up, "He could've had plastic surgery."

The familiar urge to punch him grew within her. "Why would he do that? It wouldn't make sense. Besides, his color scheme has changed, which means someone made a deliberate decision to go from red to blue."

Conner pressed the issue. "Changing a costume color isn't exactly a hard or particularly significant thing to do. Besides, if there was a new Deathstroke, the old one would come out of retirement or hiding or whatever and kick his ass."

"I'll agree he's acting with the former's permission, a protégé, perhaps even a son."

"Who on earth would have sex with Deathstroke?"

"Supervillians, much like superheroes, are often very attractive."

Conner smirked. "Is that your subtle way of hitting on me, Wayne?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you and I were the last human beings left in the world, Queen, the species would be doomed."

He laughed as Jason tried to regain control of the meeting. Helena's communicator went off, and after a quick glance she was preparing to leave. "Meeting's over for me, there's an emergency."

Uncharacteristically, Jason glared at her. "If Gotham was under attack we'd know."

Helena was already leaving. "Not that kind of emergency. The hospital paged and I have a secret identity to maintain."

* * *

It'd been a long, grueling surgery, the kind that made her want to quit. But now that she was out of her bloody scrubs, standing at the nurse's station and initialing some paperwork, mentally preparing for her patrol, she found herself finally relaxing.

"Helena?"

Helena closed her eyes, wishing she could run away with dignity, but she was forced to swallow her discomfort and turn and face Ryan Grant. "Yes?"

He was dressed in dark jeans and a red button-down with the sleeves rolled-up. It was the first time Helena saw him dressed in something that wasn't a hospital gown. She quickly kept her reaction under control but couldn't deny the pull of a deep attraction. He quickly signed what appeared to be release forms, before turning to her with a disarming smile. Helena forced herself not to be affected. "So I'm officially no longer your patient."

Helena kept walking. "Thank God for small mercies."

He smiled, seemingly always pleased with her smart mouth. "I want to take you out on a date, Helena."

She did not like how he said her name – that's to say she enjoyed it far too much. Her logic beat back her emotions; it was a well-practiced and easily won battle. "You only want me because I'm probably the first woman who's said no to you in years."

He caught up with her. "I won't deny the truth in that, but also true is the fact that you're the first woman I've met in years that's worth the fight. So what's your number?"

"I don't share my number."

"You do realize I have the nursing staff wrapped around my finger, and they'll share your number with me in a heartbeat."

"They only have my pager number."

"I'm a famous man. I have ways."

She stopped, smiling devilishly. "I have ways too, you know. However, I'll give you my number right now if you can tell me my last name."

He smirked before he realized he didn't know her last name. She smirked in response and walked towards the exit where the paparazzi were clamoring. He put a hand on the door, preventing her escape. "Before I face the vultures, let me say one more thing…"

"I've heard enough." She pushed him aside. "And don't be so sure the vultures are for you."

He looked confused, and she took great satisfaction in that as she opened the doors to flashing lights and screams of "Dr. Wayne."

He'd snapped out of his daze quickly though, and was hot on her tail. He'd heard the name they called before seeing him and changing their tune. He yelled, "Wayne? Your last name is Wayne? As in on half the building in Gotham, Wayne?"

The photographers were going nuts, ruthlessly trying to get a shot of the Wayne and the rock star together. Finally, the boring Wayne would bring a big payoff. She ignored them and answered her former patient over the noise, "That'd be the one."

He stopped, shocked, and watched her leave. Then he grinned, more determined than ever.

* * *

For a while now, Paul Triboni had been experiencing moments in which he felt like he was being watched. Like someone was researching him to find out how to take him down. He didn't climb to the top by ignoring such instincts, but also couldn't show any perceived weakness or fear. When he had the feeling he sent out people to look, and they always came back with nothing. The last time he got the feeling he even fired his gun blindly in the dark, nearly hurting himself from the falling debris. After that he was determined not to let it affect him, but still, the feeling was nagging him again.

Either he was being paranoid, or he had a professional's target on his back.


	4. Chapter Three: Step Back

Chapter 3 – Step Back Into Another Perspective

Selina Kyle, historically, was not a fan of superheroes. She wasn't like some, seeing them as an evil or danger that needed to be destroyed, rather she saw them as self-righteous, meddling pests. In return, they saw her as criminal and a thief, but she was never on a most wanted list, someone who needed to be stopped yesterday. It was almost like superheroes were her boyfriend's idiot friends, not people she particularly liked, but people who were in her life on a regular basis regardless. Selina laughed at that thought.

"Hello Selina."

But that was then. Selina put down her menu and smiled at Barbara Gordon, who wheeled to her patio table. Now, Selina found herself keeping company with superheroes at least once a week. She tipped her espresso to her guest in greeting. "Barbara."

The server stood for a moment, waiting to take Barbara's drink order. "I'll have a large glass of water, and you might as well just leave the pitcher at the table."

The server nodded and left. Selina smiled slightly, amused, "I remember those days."

Barbara wasn't amused, "Yeah." She looked to the empty seats. "Where's the daughter?"

Selina picked up her menu again. "Late as usual."

Barbara nodded. "Is she bringing Iris with her today?"

Selina looked over the appetizer selection. "I haven't the slightest idea."

Barbara smiled to herself, picking up her own menu. "That girl may look just like you, but she's still her father's daughter."

Selina thought of Helena's dark blue eyes, eyes she fell in love with long ago. "No. She's got her father's hair and his eyes."

Barbara recognized the wistful look, but said nothing. They covered the usual chitchat, what they'd been doing the past few days, the weather, and were just about to begin current events when Helena arrived. She blew in with an effortless grace, stylishly dressed, and sat at the table with a quick apology. The server appeared quickly to take her order. Selina recognized the look in the young man's eyes; it was the same one that her beauty once afforded her. After the besotted man left, Helena turned to the other ladies, and looked quizzically at the empty chair. "Iris isn't here yet?"

Barbara spoke, "Is she planning on coming?"

"She said she was." Helena laughed quietly, shaking her head. "Fastest woman alive and she's the last one to get here."

Selina asked, "Shall we wait for her before we order?"

Helena scowled. "I'm hungry now, and she knows better than to keep me waiting."

It didn't take long for Helena to catch the waiter's attention, and he took their orders. Shortly after ordering, some photographers started taking Helena's picture from outside of the patio area. Barbara asked, "Why are they here? I thought they were pretty much leaving you alone now."

Helena sighed. "That was before I made headlines." The other women waited for further explanation. "They got a picture with me and my patient, Ryan Grant, then naturally told everyone we were dating."

Selina asked, "Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"He's the lead singer of ContraBAND. And frequently winds up on those "Hottest and Most Eligible People" lists." She said all of this in a clearly disinterested tone.

Selina smiled. "That reminds me of someone else who always ended up on those lists. Maybe it's true, ever girl marries her father."

Barbara smiled as well. "No, she's becoming her father. From what I know, he's quite the bad boy."

Helena rolled her eyes, and smiled as she took a drink as the older women laughed at her romantic entanglements. Their salads arrived. As they began eating, Selina felt it necessary to say more, "So is he cute?"

Helena actually blushed, and then hearing the clicks of shutters, brought the waiter back, "I'm not actually interested." She instructed the waiter to get rid of the press. He took his duty seriously and they were gone with in minutes.

The ladies continued to talk as the meal progressed, and around dessert the topic changed to Helena and Barbara's nocturnal activities. Selina was in no mood, however, "Helena, I respect you, and I support your lifestyle choices, however, I don't want to be bored by your crime-fighting."

Helena looked at her mother. "I will never understand your disdain for crime-fighting when you fell on the side of justice more than once in your hay-day."

Selina wiped nonexistent crumbs of chocolate from the corners of her mouth. "That's because you live with your father and only see the world through his vision."

Helena leaned back. "Then enlighten me, Mother."

Barbara sensed this was a mother-daughter, excused herself to use the facilities and to handle the check. Selina also got up from her seat to come closer to the still sitting Helena. Selina brushed a stray hair behind Helena's ear; it was uncharacteristically motherly. "You're human, and you're allowed to make mistakes, Helena."

Helena smiled, in a rare million-watt way, "I know that, mom."

Helena rose and Selina the hugged her, which took Helena off guard, "You're also allowed to repeat those mistakes." She held just a little bit tighter. "Let me tell you something no one else will, the best things in life, the things you remember most, are the things you weren't supposed to do." Selina let go.

"Like breaking the law or falling in love with the enemy?"

Selina ignored the jab. Helena didn't understand, much like her father, because Helena never had to survive. "You can't control feelings, darling. Only how you act on them." She kissed her daughter on the cheek. "I love you, don't die."

Helena exited the restaurant with her mother and Babs only to nearly run into their late companion. Helena was about to make a joke, when she noticed Iris was dressed, ready for a night of clubbing rather than an afternoon lunch. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Iris smiled. "I talked to your bosses at the hospital and you are taking a night off while daddy's out of town."

The other two women smiled and left the two friends, silently wishing Iris luck in her mission. Helana began to walk and said quietly, "Crime doesn't take a night off, and neither do I."

Iris kept pace with her. "You're allowed to have a good time occasionally, and don't start spouting your father's mantra at me because unlike you, his public persona afforded him a social life."

"You sound like Dick."

"I've been talking to Dick."

"Which was your first mistake."

Iris stopped and intercepted her friend, forcing her to stop as well. "Helena Marcella Wayne, you are going out with me and having fun tonight."

Helena glared at the arms holding her. "Catching criminals is my fun."

Iris let go. "Fine. Unlike you, I'm willing to compromise. First, we'll patrol and you can show me how beating up bad guys is fun. And then, we'll go to the latest Gotham hotspot and I'll show you how dancing off alcoholic shots as we make men want us is fun." She began walking again.

"That's not really how alcohol works."

Iris stopped, holding up a finger, "Ok, rule one, no more brainy stuff."

* * *

Huntress looked down from her perch, still uncomfortable with the Flash tagging along though it wasn't the first time. "Aren't you worried about your city?"

The Flash shrugged. "I don't really patrol like you do. I just run over real quick if something's going down."

Huntress grunted in response. She held out her palm and pressing on the center, brought up a viewscreen, with her free hand she began to map out their patrol route for the night. Iris was beginning to grow bored, so she asked her friend, "Whose your League guilty pleasure?"

Helena's concentration didn't waver. "What?"

Iris was slightly annoyed from having to explain herself. "Your guilty pleasure. Who in the League would you sleep with and not tell me?"

Helena's concentration broke. "What is the purpose of such a question?"

Iris shrugged. "It's fun." She smiled, "I bet yours is Jason."

Helena sighed, closing the screen. "No, Jason is yours, as you'd feel you were betraying me somehow though I've shown no interest in him. Mine would be J'onn."

"You are no fun." Then Iris registered the second part of what Helena said. "J'onn?"

Helena smiled briefly before taking off into the night. Iris shook her head, "I hate it when she does that."

When Iris finally caught up with Helena she motioned for her to stay quiet. Iris looked down, "Oh look, it's street scum."

* * *

"I'm telling you, man, Deathstroke is here."

"Bullshit."

They were the stereotypical baddies, big, stupid and loud-mouthed. "Big Paulie ran into him the other night, it's why he's out of commission for a month."

"If Deathstroke really was in town, Big Paulie wouldn't have gotten five feet near him. He got nicked by the Bat, but is too embarrassed he got his ass handed to him by a chick. It's why he's making up this ridiculous story."

"He tells me he accidentally got the drop on the guy and bashed his skull in. Any other man would be lucky to walk away alive, but this guy brushes it off like it's nothing and then takes Big Paulie out. I'm telling ya, whoever or whatever Deathstroke is after, it's a done deal."

"I'll tell you for the last time, Deathstroke don't do Gotham. But if he is in town, I'll tell you another thing, the man's got a big surprise coming for him because I've seen that Huntress in action taking out guys twice her size. You don't mess with that dame."

"Thanks for the shout-out." The man was down on the ground before he could even be stunned by her presence. His friend never quite got was happening as the Flash grabbed both men and dropped them off in the police station. One minute they were patrolling the dock and the next they were being handcuffed.

But he never doubted Huntress again after that night.

* * *

Iris smiled. "Okay, so we took out some baddies, time for clubbing."

Helena wasn't smiling. "No, I this requires further investigation. I need to know what Deathstroke is doing in Gotham."

Iris stopped Helena. "No. We did your thing, now we're doing mine."

Helena nearly pouted. "I only got one punch."

Iris showcased her stubborn side. "I want to go to the club."

Helena sighed, knowing that even if she forced the issue, Iris would whine the whole time. "Fine. Where are we off to?"

Iris was grinning again. "Oh no. First we must, prepare our looks."

* * *

"What are we doing?" Helena had only been in the line around the block for about a minute and already it was wearing on her patience. She and Iris were now appropriately dressed in outfits that were much less revealing then the costumes they'd been wearing previously.

Iris, on the other, felt the excitement grow, thinking with this length of a line it must be the hottest club in Gotham tonight. "This part of the reason I wanted to be done early was because we'll be waiting in line for an hour."

"Oh no. I don't wait in lines." She dragged Iris to the front of the line. When she got their she flashed the man behind the velvet rope her most charming smile and her credit card. "I see you have a slot for this in your clipboard, what do you say to a hundred credits and we bypass tedious formalities."

The bouncer looked unimpressed by her beauty and money, and asked, "Name?"

The surround paparazzi recognized her before he did and began shouting it and flashing pictures. She smiled, "What they said."

He nodded and unclipped the rope, and she slides her card on the clipboard in response, thanking him and grabbing Iris as she goes inside. Iris is shocked. "How did you do that?"

Helena began to make her way to the bar, deciding she needed a drink, "I haven't waited in a line in years, Iris."

Iris followed along. "But how?"

Helena stopped to face her friend. "My last name is Wayne, meaning I'm a billionaire with a scandalous and famous background. I'm also a doctor and a beautiful woman. Add on top of that that I know almost every from of martial art. I don't hear the word no often, Iris."

Iris smiled as the continued their path to the bar. Why didn't she bring Helena out more often? She was so useful. Iris found that they didn't even have to pay for their drinks, as Helena managed that as well. The girls attempted to talk over the loud music for a moment, but it wasn't long before Iris gave out and went out to the dance floor. Helena declined to follow, though she mentioned she might join later.

Helena wandered the club, still sipping her drink and recognizing many of the people from the occasional party she attended on behalf of the Wayne Foundation. Then she spotted another familiar face talking with the DJ.

Crap.

She tried to duck and get out, but he noticed her too quickly and caught up with her. "Dr. Wayne?" She kept going. "Helena!"

Helena looked around for Iris. She didn't need this, of all the rotten luck.

Ryan caught up to her. "I thought that was you. Didn't think I'd ever spot you in a place like this."

"Whereas, I'm not surprised to find you here. Shouldn't you be shooting lines in the bathroom?"

He laughed. "A doctor condoning drug use?"

She frowned. "Of course, I'm only stating the obvious."

"You know, doc, I might surprise you if you gave me half a chance."

Finally, Helena spotted Iris. "I sincerely doubt that." She went to her friend, stopping her mid-dance move.

Iris grinned. "So you decided to join me after all?"

"No. We're leaving."

Iris frowned. "Already? No, Helena you promised you'd try."

Helena began making her way to the door, trying to avoid the man still following her. "We'll go to another club, Iris. I promise. I just can't be here."

Ryan catches up to her once more, and this time grabs her wrist to stop her from leaving so quickly, "Wait."

Helena escapes the hold quickly, but is stunned by his quick reflexes, as she shakes him off from one hand he grabs the other, much more tightly. "I know the DJ here, why don't you stay awhile. We could…"

She doesn't care to let him finish, and Iris looks at the two of them, confused. "I really have someplace else to be."

"Then how about a number and we can meet up again later?"

She broke from his hold. "No. Iris, we're leaving now."

Helena goes for the door, but Ryan holds Iris back.

"You're the best friend right? Give me her number."

She eyed him carefully. "As you said, I'm the best friend why would I help you?"

"You're helping her." He looked around for a second before focusing back on her. "Seriously, how many men does she win over with that personality to the point where they're willing to jump through all the hoops she lays out before them?" Iris didn't look convinced. "All right, she's running so fast from me, she must feel something."

Iris couldn't deny the truth in those words. "So then what do you see in her?"

"I crave a challenge and she's the first woman I've met who's intrigued me."

Iris paused, still unsure, and then heard Helena calling her. She made her decision. "I hope you're quick, Mr. Grant. Her number is…"

Helena looked behind; surprised that Iris wasn't right behind her. When Iris finally joined her outside the club, she asked what happened.

"Just got stuck on something." She smiled. "Where to now?"


	5. Chapter Four: Staying Up Past Sunlight

A/N: I cannot write music lyrics; therefore I borrowed the ones that follow. Also, in case you didn't know, I can't take credit for the DC universe and the characters found in it.

**Chapter 4 – Staying Up Past Sunlight**

It only took Commissioner Ethan Grant eight years to get used to Gotham and its ways. Part of him hated that he ever got used to corrupt cops and working with a vigilante with clear issues to catch Rogues with even clearer psychological problems. But if you were unwilling to work with dirty cops and costumed heroes in Gotham, you were on your own, and likely to get killed.

So he waited on the police station's roof with a lit Bat signal, waiting for Huntress to appear. It wasn't long before he heard her voice, "You're really a sucker for the classics, aren't you, Commissioner?"

He smiled; she often liked to tease him about the outdated signal to talk with her. He looked over to her and saw her sitting on the roof's edge. She looked small and almost childlike, hugging one leg and kicking the other over the roof's edge, though her ever-present sensuality wouldn't allow the image to fully form. "Still sends the criminals running scared."

She swung herself into a standing position, looking more like her usual intimidating self. "Why am I here?"

He pointed to a green box with question marks on it. "Riddler clue."

She nodded, picking it up. But stopped before leaving, "You need to get over her."

Ethan wished he could claim he didn't know what she was talking about. He wished he could say that the fact the Riddler killed Batwoman, Cassie, the woman he'd loved, no longer effected him. But she would know he was lying. "It's fine."

Huntress wasn't looking at him. "A public figure at your age should be married. It endears the public to you more and would be good for you to have someone to come home to."

The Commissioner didn't appreciate the unsolicited advice. "Your public persona doesn't date much either."

She turned to face him now, looking very dangerous. "I don't recall you knowing who I am behind the mask."

He had his suspicions considering who her predecessor was, but he told her the truth. "I don't want to know for sure, public opinion on vigilantes shifts too much. When they accuse me of knowing your secret identity and protecting you, I'd rather not be lying when I say I have no idea who is the woman beneath the mask."

She looked down before meeting his eyes again, "I'd be more worried about a Rogue deciding you know who I am and targeting you."

He nodded, remembering what happened to the last Commissioner who'd been targeted by a Rogue. He'd even met the daughter once, and he had struggled not to the sight of the wheelchair effect him. "Like Gordon. Wouldn't that be a reason not to get married?"

"They're insane, but highly intelligent. They'll find a button to push either way." She paused. "And occasionally they just get lucky."

She leapt off the roof. Ethan had ceased to wonder how she managed to do that so effortlessly, and instead brooded over Cassie.

* * *

The Riddler was nervous. It wasn't a common emotion for him, even when he was doing something highly illegal; in fact, usually a good caper gave him a high any drug addict would envy. But lately, he couldn't seem to escape Huntress. His only successes were beginning to only come at the price of another Rogue being active and taking precedence over him, like when the Harleytwins were out. He'd begun to plan his plans on their randomness, just so he could successfully steal some things in order to make an income.

The whole business infuriated him; Huntress shouldn't be beating him so damn easily. Not for the first time, he cursed the day he accepted that insane Damian's deal to distract Batwoman, killing her, and assisting the creation of Huntress. He loved that he'd found an intellectual equal, but he missed winning.

So he watched the thugs he'd hired load the computers into his van and kept glancing over his shoulder, knowing the second he didn't she'd be coming at him. "Hurry up. You know that Bat brat is on the way."

One of the men grunted, "We can't move any faster, boss."

This is why he hated hired help; he got excuses more than actual assistance. His watch beeped at him. She'd already found the red herring; they had ten minutes until she would show up. He clapped his hands together. "Ten minutes, men. Let's get going. Quickly."

Someone was standing in the doorway, "You don't have ten minutes, boys."

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. How did she get here so fast? The thug standing closest was taken out first. Riddler heard whatever the man had been holding crash to the floor as he attempted to make his way out to the van via an alternative route.

Until another one of his men was thrown directly in front of him, blocking his alternative route. He whirled around and saw Huntress had already taken out his entire crew. So he'd have to fight her, well he wasn't going to go down easily. He smiled as he carefully and slowly made his way to the exit, twirling his staff. "Good help is so hard to find these days. I mean they couldn't even keep you busy for a few minutes so I could escape."

She got her own staff out and clicked a button, readying it for battle, "I did have the element of surprise."

He nodded, still walking, "Yes. May I ask, how did you manage to be two places at once?"

She gave him a mock guilty look, "I sent the cops to the obvious decoy and instructed the Commissioner to let me know when he tripped the alarm."

He looked at her seriously, "That's cheating."

She smirked, "What can I say? I fight to win."

The Riddler attempted to spray her with knockout gas from the top of his question mark staff, but she dodged it too quickly. She swung her staff out to trip him up, it worked, but he rolled and was on his feet within seconds. So he was able to block her next hit. They went through a series of attacks and countering, until he broke out of one and managed to pull a concealed knife on her. She didn't see it coming and her block drove it into her shoulder. She inhaled sharply, but still it distracted him more than her, and she managed to knock him to his feet again. Before he could get up again, she had him handcuffed.

Damn it. Soon he'd be calling his far too expensive lawyer, and he didn't even manage to successfully score some extra cash.

* * *

Tim Drake was enjoying at quiet evening at home. His kids went to sleep hours ago, but his wife and he were still finishing up work. Well, more accurately he was finishing up work, and she'd gotten off work about an hour ago and was still wide-awake. He could hear her music playing in the other room, and part of him wanted to smile imagining her dancing with her glass of wine, pretending (since the kids were asleep and her husband busy) she was a single woman and a resident again. Tim smiled, it was little quirks like that reminded him why he loved her. He began to calculate how much of this absolutely needed to be done before tomorrow, so he could go next door and join her.

"Hey Tim, can you go fetch your wife and something to stop the bleeding so I don't get blood all over your beige carpet?"

Tim was annoyed before he even saw her in the window. When he did glance over he saw her sitting on the windowsill, legs and feet dangling above his carpet and one hand holding her shoulder. No wonder Helena needed Meredith; she wouldn't be able to stitch up that kind of wound properly on her own.

He wanted to say something to her, something to show his anger and annoyance, something that would make her think twice before coming here again and reminding him of the life he had before the wife and kids. Unlike Meredith he couldn't relive the past with music, his fond reminiscing would likely get him killed. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply got up and did as she asked.

When he went next door, he saw Meredith swinging her hips to a piece of music that reminded him of Dick getting drunk at Wally West's bachelor party. Not that Dick had been alone; in fact, Tim may have been the only sober one by the end of that one. She caught sight of him in the doorway and smiled, making her way towards him, hips still shaking. He smiled in return; once she reached him she put her arms around him and kissed him.

When they separated, Tim hated that he had to spoil the moment. "Helena's here. She's hurt."

Meredith smile disappeared instantly, and her arms dropped back to her sides, "Is it serious?"

Tim shook his head. "No, I think she just can't quite reach the wound to stitch herself up."

Meredith nodded and turned off her music. "Can you go fetch my tools while I talk to her?"

"Yes, dear."

Meredith gave him a look. Tim knew she hated when he said that, mostly because she knew that was the reason he often said it. Tim fetched all the necessary things and returned to his study. When he entered he immediately noticed that Helena had her mask off now, along with half of the top of her costume. He was momentarily stunned by her beauty, but his wife's voice broke him out of it soon enough, "Did you get everything?"

"Yep." He handed his wife the tools and sat in front of them, speaking with Helena, "So what happened?"

"Riddler. He had a knife, and I didn't see it until it was too late."

Tim couldn't help but point out, "Well, Helena, in the future, when someone comes after you with a knife, dodge it."

She glared at him, "And here I always thought Dick was supposed to be the funny one."

Tim smiled. "Any good cases lately?"

Tim noticed Meredith rolling her eyes behind Helena. Tim often talked shop with Helena; even though he was out of the game, he still enjoyed the mysteries. Helena and he had been known to talk for hours about predicting the Harleytwins's next move or discussing the Riddler's motivations.

Helena looked thoughtful for a moment, "Deathstroke may be in Gotham."

Tim's eyes widened and brightened. "Tell me everything."

Helena inhaled before launching into it. Meredith shook her head at the two of them, though her hidden grin showed Tim she didn't really mind. He vaguely wondered if she thought it was cute, the same way he thought her dancing to recapture her youth was.

He didn't linger on the thought as Helena mentioned how the first spotting was through the Justice League satellite photos…

* * *

Helena loved this spot. She was sitting on a ledge next to a gargoyle. She found it so unfortunate that the gargoyles were slowly disappearing with time, being taken away for more modern sculptures. What would Gotham be without its signature Gothic architecture? She made a mental note to tell Robin, Wayne Enterprises' current CEO, to make it a Wayne Foundation priority to preserve the gargoyles of Gotham. Robin would probably shake her head and think Helena was nuts, but she'd still do it. She was a good woman, and a great worker.

Helena shifted her thoughts to what Tim had said about Deathstroke. He'd brought up the good point that if she wanted to find Deathstroke, she first needed to find his target. He'd also brought up the important question she'd overlooked, who'd hired him in the first place?

Barbara's voice interrupted her thoughts, "You're getting a phone call."

"What?"

"Your cell phone is ringing." Helena wondered who could possibly be calling her. "Do you want me to patch them in?"

Helena nodded before realizing Barbara couldn't see her. "Please. Thanks, Babs."

"Hello?"

"Hello, luv."

Helena recognized the Welsh accent immediately, Ryan Grant. "How did you get this number?"

She could practically hear him smiling, "You need a little more mystery in your life."

"Trust me, I don't."

"Wanted to know if you'd meet me for a late dinner. Possibly breakfast, as those places tend to be what's open at this hour."

She still couldn't believe it. "Now? You know most people are sleeping at this hour."

"I'm not. You're not." She didn't see much point in arguing that. "Come on, this way it won't be crowded and we can avoid the press."

It made logical sense, but Helena wasn't done with her objections. "How did you know you wouldn't be waking me up?"

"Figured you were a doctor, you must be used to all kinds of hours."

"Why are you still awake?"

"Just got done with a show, and I'm far too hopped up on adrenaline to go to bed. So I wanted to get dinner, and I would like to have dinner with you."

Helena answered automatically, "No."

"Why won't you go out with me?" It could've sounded whiny, but didn't.

She smiled, knowing he couldn't see her, "Because you only like the chase."

He laughed. "I admit it, I like the chase." His voice lowered, "But I like what happens after the capture even better."

Helena inhaled deeply. She was already regretting this decision. "Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

She could feel his smugness over the phone, and hated that it felt like he'd won.

* * *

Helena yawned. She should be sleeping right now, not going out on dates with egomaniacs. She also felt ridiculous, with a burgundy cami, dark jeans and heels she was far to dressed up to stand outside of an all-night diner. Perhaps if she was drunk, the outfit would work.

"You're here."

Helena turned and saw Ryan. She took one look at his appearance: combat boots, ripped jeans, a tight black tank top, silver rings on his index fingers, chipped black nail polish and smudged eye make-up. "Wow. You weren't kidding when you said you just got off the stage."

He smiled, and it was dazzling. "Yeah. I've never found a high quite like the one found on stage. Well, maybe one other."

She nodded knowingly. "That's right. Is it cocaine or heroin you have a reoccurring habit with?"

His smile disappeared. "How do you know I wasn't talking about sex?"

Helena studied his body cues, just like Cassie taught her. "You weren't."

They entered the diner, and Helena was slightly impressed when Ryan held the door open for her. The hostess looked annoyed that they had the audacity to enter the place to eat. Helena figured that's why she held the graveyard shift. The hostess led them to an isolated booth. Both Helena and Ryan were glad for the privacy, and tried to come up with something to break the awkward tension between them.

Helena began to notice everything about her date. His blue hair almost looked black, which she was certain was the desired effect. The color nearly matched his eyes, which she figured was a happy coincidence. Just to have something to say, she made an observation, "Your mascara is running."

Ryan smiled, "Actually it's just eyeliner." He wiped at some of the black beneath his eyes, smudging it worse in the process. He shrugged. "It's the bright stage lights. I don't just sit still while performing, anyone would sweat. Besides, it makes me look edgy." He said the last part with a smirk.

Helena returned his smirk. "So women with runny make-up are messy, but men look edgy?"

He counted his points on his fingers. "Runny make-up, smudged eyeliner and chipped nail polish all look good on rock stars and terrible on anyone else. It goes hand in hand with getting rewarded for behavior that would get anyone arrested."

She shook her head at the sad truth. The waitress appeared, a woman who'd obviously had a rough life that took its toll on her appearance. She took their drink and meal orders immediately, leaving them to talk again. Though the awkwardness had nearly disappeared now, and Helena asked, "So how much does the leader of ContraBAND make?"

"Wow. Never would've pegged you for the gold-digging type."

Helena loved the sparkle in his eyes that told her he was joking. "Actually, I'm just trying to figure out which one of us is the gold-digger. I'm not exactly cutting a welfare check, you know."

Ryan leaned back against the stiff red leather booth. "The money talk is too serious at this point. I'd rank it along with the how many kids do you want conversation."

"You want kids?"

He laughed and the waitress brought them their drinks, two waters. They both took noticeable sips before continuing their conversation. Ryan asked, "So if you could be a Gotham Rogue, past or present, who would you be?"

Helena didn't miss a beat. "Why do I have to be a Rogue? Why can't I be a hero?"

Ryan shook his head. "Then you just end up picking the one you like the best or admire the most, your villain choice reveals more."

"Catwoman. You've got to love an A-List woman in a man's club."

"What about Poison Ivy?"

"Pftt. She only could fight men, and only won because of her chemicals. Catwoman did it the old-fashioned way, her way, tight clothes and teasing followed by kicking ass. I can't help but admire her for it."

Ryan wasn't looking at her face any more and Helena knew what he was imagining. "I could see you as Catwoman. You bear a strong resemblance to her."

He had no idea. "What about you? Who would you be?" She took a drink.

"The Joker."

Helena nearly spit her water out, and slammed her glass down. "The Joker?"

"I think it would be fascinating to see the world from his point of view."

"He's killed thousands and made millions suffer, how could you even think…"

Ryan interrupted her tirade. "I didn't say I admired him or even liked him. But frankly, if you're going to be a Rogue, you might as well be the craziest one and the one who's going to get the most attention."

"You're sick and twisted."

Ryan shrugged again. "Everyone has a dark side, Helena. The Joker was just crazy enough to let his rule him."

Their food came, and they spent the rest of the evening talking about nothing of real importance. They discovered similarities and differences in book, movie and music tastes, talked about how they felt about their jobs and families, and ended the evening fighting over who'd pay.

The exited the restaurant, standing outside the doors facing one another for a moment. They'd arrived from separate directions and would have to depart separate ways. He leaned in and Helena prepared herself for a goodnight kiss, telling herself it would be a quick one. In the last second he veered his head and hers followed, he laughed softly and kissed her check before whispering, "Someone's greedy."

She was stunned, but the look he saw when he glanced at her face he saw it was a studying one. "You're not exactly what I expected."

He whispered against her cheek once again. "If I don't keep you on your toes, you'll lose interest."

She gave an evil smile he didn't see, "Or you're just all talk and don't have it in you to really kiss me."

He pulled back, eyes narrowed, and took her around the waist. And what should've been a sweet, short first kiss, was a passion-filled kiss that was meant to happen after months of dating. Both were so intoxicated by the kiss and each other that neither noticed the photographer in the bushes across the street, counting the money as he snapped away. The photographer thanked his lucky stars that he'd had the foresight to follow Grant after the show.

When Ryan broke away, Helena inhaled deeply. She was unused to having her emotions lead, and even more unaccustomed to feeling though she'd met someone who could get her. Really understand her. She met his eyes evenly. "Good-bye, Ryan."

He smiled warmly, as he took out an EARpiece, a small device placed in the ear that acted as phone, music player and headphones in one. He popped open the digital screen and selected music to play, before closing the screen and placing the device in his ear. "Good-night, Helena."

He sang along as he walked away. _"Wrap me in a bolt of lightening, send me on my way still smiling. Maybe that's the way I should go, straight into the mouth of the unknown…" _


	6. Chapter Five: Not Fair

**Chapter 5 – Not Fair **

Deathstroke had been watching the two red blobs through heat vision for about twenty minutes. He could switch which lens he used to see his target, Paul Triboni, but considering the mob boss was visiting his mistress, Deathstroke was happy not to have a clear picture. He'd stop watching completely, but he wasn't a man to shrink in the line of duty, and part of his job was tracking scum.

So far this job, while not particularly out of the ordinary, hadn't been an enjoyable one. It started when that damn little minion actually got the drop on him. Of course, Deathstroke walked away victorious, but he required some hospital attention. Personally, he blamed Gotham. Before this job, he'd refused any Gotham jobs since the pay had always been too little and the risk too great. Until he, pardon the cliché, was made an offer he couldn't refuse. Besides, he had to admit he relished in the though of confronting Huntress, based on her reputation.

Suddenly, he was getting a call. So he patched it in, answering simply to be sure he didn't compromise himself, "Yes?"

"I want to put a hold on my kill."

Deathstroke recognized the voice instantly; it was his employer. He hated the man, but that was pretty standard in his line of work, so he kept his anger in check as he asked, "Why? Another week and I'll be done."

"I want to be there. I must make travel arrangements."

Deathstroke didn't bother masking his annoyance now. "Like I said, I still need a week of study anyway to make sure there aren't any mistakes. Why would you need more than a week to get here?"

"I said hold. Don't question me."

The call ended. Deathstroke couldn't remember the last time he'd been this annoyed. He was not a man to be ordered around like a dog, and this new employer was making his way to Deathstroke's bad side. He gripped his hidden gun tightly.

It was not a place anyone would want to be.

* * *

For once, Helena had been able to sleep for more than an hour in her real bed, but her pounding head still protested the lack of caffeine in her system. She bounded down the stairs, heading straight for the coffee maker. She was surprised to hear the television since Dick was no longer staying in the Manor, until she remembered the reason he'd lift.

Her father was home.

Sure enough, she found Bruce sitting in the kitchen coffee already made. She grabbed a cup before even bothering to greet him. When she turned to do so, he nodded towards the television, "I'm not pleased with the latest picture of you making the rounds in the news."

Helena loved and hated her father's habit of cutting straight to the point. She turned towards the television but of course there was nothing but a Pepsi ad running. "What? Of the Riddler getting caught? I would think you'd be pleased."

"See for yourself."

Bruce tossed down a picture of her first kiss with Ryan. Damn. She usually noticed hidden paparazzi. She tried to play it causally, brushing it off as nothing, "What's the problem?"

"You're not supposed to be a party girl."

It was the same stare that made most people cower and give into whatever the man behind the stare wanted, but Helena Wayne was made of stronger stuff. "A wild streak with a father like you? It's not unlikely."

Bruce sighed. "Have you at least done a background check on him?"

Never in her life had Helena been so thrilled that Bruce hadn't been raising her as a teenager. She would've never left the house. Though, now that she thought about it, he had always known she was his daughter. Suddenly, Helena thought of all the boys who seemed to just decide to start ignoring for no reason shortly after they began dating. She wondered if maybe they hadn't been too chicken to break up with her properly, maybe a Bat had warned them off.

And Dick wondered why she never dated. She took a drink of her coffee, trying to sooth her aching head. "It's been one date."

Bruce studied his daughter evenly. "Sometimes that's all a good operative needs. You mentioned Deathstroke is in town. Have you thought about the possibility that this Ryan Grant is Deathstroke?"

Helena took back every time she'd stuck up for her father when others called him paranoid. "Really, Dad. It's almost sweet of you to worry, but I'm a big girl and can take care of myself."

Bruce shook his head. "Men like Ryan Grant…"

Helena didn't let him finish. "I know all about men like him. Ryan Grant was born in America, but raised in Wales, so he actually has dual-citizenship. His grandfather raised him after his mother's death, and he holds a great deal of respect for the man though the feelings don't seem to be returned. No siblings. His criminal record is fairly bad with a few brief stints in jail, and in fact one more possession of illegal substances and he'll be serving hard prison time. All of his criminal offences are the standard celebrity ones; illegal possession, disorderly conduct, indecent exposure and I think he's also got a DUI as well. He's held a natural talent for music from a young age. And currently makes enough money not to be after mine. Satisfied?"

Bruce grunted. He'd still be running at least five checks on Ryan Grant as soon as his daughter left for work.

* * *

Emerging from his cave after hours of research, Bruce sought out his old friend. When he entered the room that housed a bed-rest Alfred, he was not comforted. The former butler looked so frail in the large bed, the shadow of death hanging over him. Bruce pushed down his feelings, "How are you feeling?"

Alfred managed a weak smile. "As well as a dying man can expect."

The protest of health died on Bruce's lips, he'd been in the room when the doctor delivered the news that Alfred would be lucky to make it another six months. Bruce ignored the painful topic and said simply, "Helena's seeing someone."

"Oh?"

Bruce was expecting much more of a response and waited only to be frustrated by the lack of a further reply. "That's it? He's some wild rock musician. She could compromise the entire mission! How could she do this? It's too dangerous."

Alfred explained patiently, as though Bruce was six years old again. "She's a beautiful young woman, Master Wayne. Of course she's going to attract suitors, much like you did when you were her age. I'm sure she can handle herself, just as you did."

"That was different. I can tell she's serious about him."

"So? You also had some serious relationships with women, in which you did compromise your identity. Why would you expect any different from your daughter?"

"Because!" Bruce shouted before instantly calming himself. "It's the quality of man. She should have better taste."

Alfred smiled at Bruce and asked in a weak voice, "Are you sure it's the man you object so strongly to? Or is it perhaps that your daughter has fallen in love and there's nothing you can do to control it?"

Bruce only grunted in response, muttering, "It's only been one date." But Alfred recognized the look of Bruce desperately trying to logically explain away the emotional response Alfred had correctly identified. If he had the breath, Alfred would've sighed.

Bruce left his friend to rest. The visit hadn't been helpful; as he hadn't received the response he'd wanted. Bruce thought about calling Selina, as she may recognize the danger their daughter was in, but feared her response would be an echo of Alfred's.

* * *

It'd been a long surgery. Helena did some stretches as she walked to her locker to grab her lab coat. She put on the crisp white coat and was surprised to find something in one of the pockets.

Ryan had left a note, thanking her for the date and asking for a second, telling her to meet him at his hotel room after she got off work. Helena smiled. Who knew he could be so old-fashioned? She stomped the emotion out quickly, since when did anything remotely romantic do anything to her but make her want to hurl? She stuffed the note into her lab coat and went out to do her job.

Her mind was already concocting how exactly Ryan had managed to get the note in the correct place, when she noticed a group of women laughing and decided to join them while finishing some paperwork. She needed the company to get her mind off other things. One of her fellow female residents noticed her, "What do you think, Helena?"

She smiled to be friendly, "About what?"

An intern clarified, "What do you think Batman looked like without a mask?"

Helena's stomach dropped. This was not how she wanted to take her mind off things. "I don't know."

Another female resident perked up, "Oh come on, he had to have been gorgeous."

A male nurse Helena hadn't noticed before played devil's advocate at this point, "He could've been wearing the mask to cover his disfigured face and balding head."

All of the women agreed in unison that that couldn't have been the case. One of the attendings noticed Helena's quietness. "Come on, Helena, tall, dark, and dangerous, you must be a fan of Batman's. He's the definition of your type."

Helena plastered the smile on again; trying desperately not to wonder what it said about her that someone suggested her father is the type of man she's attracted to. "I was always more of a Nightwing girl. I love a cute butt."

The resident in her year, Dr. Klein, shook her head. "A nice butt is all well and good, but Batman had the bulge. Bulge beats butt any day."

Helena swallowed a mouthful of vomit. The others laughed in agreement. "Oh, that bulge, can you imagine what he'd be like in bed. Those big arms wrapping around you and he just takes you. Hard up against the wall." The nurse demonstrated, to the delight of the rest. Helena struggled to keep a neutral face, this couldn't be happening to her. "It would be rough and great."

Another nurse shook her head. "No, I think he'd have some sweetness in him too, a gentleness."

Oh God. Helena was sure this couldn't get any worse. Then the resident from her year spoke up again, "See I always pictured him as a doggie-style kind-of guy." The resident smiled wickedly, "Though that may just be because of the Catwoman thing. I mean, can you imagine what it was like when Batman had sex with Catwoman?"

Helena had never been so wrong in her life. It was twenty minutes before she could get away from the conversation, go to a bathroom and relieve her stomach of it contents.

* * *

Selina answered the phone, worried; it was unlike Helena to call during work. Her daughter didn't even begin with a greeting. "Be a superhero they said, but I can tell you right now I did not sign up for this shit. There's no chapter for this in damn secret identity handbook."

Selina's worry was not relieved, and pictures of Helena's exposed identity and gruesome Rogue plots filled her mind. "What's wrong Helena?"

Helena paused. "I just participated in a conversation about what it'd be like to have sex with Batman."

Selina blinked.

"That's right. The topic of conversation for today was sex with Batman, who apparently must be my type. Because of Ryan, now tall, dark and dangerous is my type and that's Batman." Helena continued rapidly, on roll now, "I mean, how rich is that? And God knows we can't talk sex without details. We have to paint a picture, with his strong arms, and up against the wall or down on all fours or in a bed among rose petals. What would his technique be, rough or sweet? And I'm trying to steer the conversation to Nightwing, because that would be less disturbing, but oh no, it's all about the bulge."

Selina asked, fascinated, "They still talk about the bulge?"

"This is not funny!" There was a hint of hysteria in Helena's words.

Selina took great care to keep the laughter out of her voice, "How awful for you, dear."

"Oh, it gets better. Then we're talking about what it was like when Batman and Catwoman had sex. I had to, without a hint of weirdness, talk about the violent, wild, amazing sex my parents had. Oh, and of course we had to add the handcuffs and the whip."

"Honey, that's…" Selina knew if she continued she wouldn't be able to stop laughing. "…just awful. Ha. Ha. Ha."

"You were supposed to outraged, people gossiping about you."

Selina stopped laughing long enough to reply, "You have to expect that with a costumed persona." And then she started right up again.

"This is not helpful." With that, Helana hung up and Selina struggled to control herself. She had to call Barbara.

* * *

When Helena arrived at Ryan's penthouse suite, she still hadn't fully recovered from her afternoon trauma. So she knocked on the door a bit more harshly then she might have otherwise. Ryan answered the door smiling and she shoved her things into his arms as she strode in, "So why did I have to come over here when finished working?"

Belatedly, Ryan moved aside to let her in. "Hello, Helena, looking lovely as ever."

She briefly smiled. "Thank you. Why am I here?"

He pointed the plush leather couch facing the obviously expensive television. "I thought we'd have a movie night. I even made popcorn."

Ryan went to the kitchen. Helena put down her purse and took off her jacket. "Oh, Ryan, you spoil me." He didn't appreciate the sarcasm, but liked the teasing look on her face so much when he turned to face her he refrained from biting back. She asked, "Do you have a movie picked out?"

He returned, popcorn in hand. "One of my favorites, _A Clockwork Orange_."

They sat on the couch together, and she stole a piece of popcorn. "I've never seen it."

Ryan grinned and pushed a button on the side of the sofa, the lights dimmed and the movie began. "Perfect."

They watched in silence for the first ten minutes or so, inching closer to each other as the movie rolled. Helena leaned against Ryan's chest, forgetting her hellish afternoon, when he said, "I didn't think this movie choice through."

Helena broke away and turned to face him. "What are you talking about?"

Ryan sighed, and bit his lip before explaining, "I was about to put a move on you because this early in a relationship, come over and watch a movie is basically code for come over and at the very least make out with me for a few hours. Then I realized that we just got done watching a rape scene, and I don't want you to think the two things are related."

Helena regarded him for a moment and then stood. Only to straddle him, settling on his lap. "So just to be clear, you think rape is bad."

He put his arms on her hips. "Yes, very much so."

She nodded solemnly. "Well, I'm glad we got that settled."

Then she kissed him. Neither actually watched the rest of the movie.


	7. Chapter Six: Queen and Clowns

**Chapter 6 – You'll be the Queen, and I'll be Your Clown**

Iris missed seeing her best friend. She understood. She understood that as a doctor and a superhero, Helena's free time was precious and infrequent. She even understood that she hadn't behaved much better during her relationships, almost always picking the man over the friend. But still, she missed her friend.

So she dug into a very old bag of tricks to hang out with her, and asked J'onn to schedule Huntress' monitor duty right after hers, intending to hang out with her after. It was actually how Iris had formed her friendship with Helena, which grew into one of the most precious relationships she now had.

Huntress had been a member of the Justice League for nearly a year, and Iris found that she knew next to nothing about her teammate. Though she noticed that Huntress had made no effort to know any of her teammates, and Iris would've put good money that no Justice League member really knew anything about Huntress, aside from being Batman's daughter. Iris resolved to fix this and stuck around a little when Huntress took over her shift one evening.

The woman eyed the Flash carefully, looking inconvenienced but tolerant like when a child asks for attention while you're busy with real work. Giving up on the idea that if she ignored the Flash, maybe she'd go away, Huntress turned to her teammate, "Do you want something?"

The Flash hopped onto the control panel. "Just to talk, get to know you."

Inconvenience turned to irritation, and Huntress began, "I really don't need any friends."

The Flash smiled, "Yes you do, you're just too Batty to admit it."

Huntress raised an eyebrow. "Batty?"

The Flash shrugged. "Wrong use of the word, I know, but it's appropriate considering."

Huntress gave a brief laugh that might have just been a quick exhale of air. Iris thought this was encouraging, but found she had no topic of conversation. So for ten minutes or so the two costumed women sat together in awkward silence, briefly starting conversation only to have them end prematurely. Lacking other topics, Iris decided to go for a somewhat boring question, "So how'd you join the League?"

Huntress looked at her teammate as if to ask did you really just ask me that stupid of a question, but answered frankly, "Nightwing retired, Batwoman died and I got stuck with the job."

After ten minutes, Iris had already learned one thing; Huntress was a straight to the point kind of woman. She tried continuing this topic, "So what did you do to prepare?"

Without pause, Huntress replied, "I investigated everyone. Their backgrounds, pasts, weaknesses, etc."

Iris was taken aback. She wasn't sure what answer she was expecting, but this wasn't it. At first, she was tempted to ask what Huntress had learned about the rest of the team, but it struck her as too gossipy. Instead she asked her, "What did you learn about me?"

Helena thought for a long moment as if deciding how she wanted to answer, before facing the Flash fully, "When you and your twin brother were kids, one of your father's enemies kidnapped the two of you. The villain didn't actually know the goldmine he'd struck upon until he observed your father's overemotional response to your capture. He still didn't quite understand, but he knew you and your brother were somebody to the man behind the mask. So he elevated his threats, forcing your father to choose to save only one of you. The Flash of course thought he was too fast for this trick, but in the end, your brother died."

Huntress paused here, waiting for this Flash to ask her not to continue, already knowing what happened, but the Flash nodded, indicating that she wanted Huntress to continue. Huntress was impressed; she'd underestimated the other woman. She continued, "There was no way for you to know it, but Superman had saw the events unfold on the newsreel. He excused himself from his day job and arrived in Star City just in time to stop your father from killing the villain. The two argued with each other, and almost called each other by their real names in front of an unconscious villain and a very conscious little girl. That's when Batman arrived. He'd been on monitor duty and figured he'd be needed. The Flash had barely noticed Batman's arrival as Superman had purposefully kept his attention occupied so Batman could inject him with a high-dose sedative to compensate for his super-human metabolism. When I asked him about the story he even joked that situations like that were why he had protocols."

The Flash sat quietly for a moment and then said, "You know, that was the first time I'd ever meet Batman. I'd always found him to be so frightening, but Superman had to carry my dad home and deliver the bad guy to the police, so that left Batman to take me home. He was very gentle with me, I know now that he probably had a good idea of what I was going through. Before he left me to my mother he bent down and told me, 'That ache you're feeling? It'll never go away, but you can use it to make yourself stronger.' He always made more sense to me after that."

Huntress let the weight of the moment settle before asking curiously, "So how fucked up are you from that entire episode?"

It was the first time anyone had ever reacted with something other than sympathy. As a result Iris' reaction differed from her usual reaction of anger or withdrawal, she laughed. She laughed until tears flowed and her stomach muscles hurt. She decided then and there that she liked this other woman, and when she recovered she asked, "So what kind of dirt did you dig up on the others?"

Huntress gave what Iris could only call a naughty smile. To quote a famous movie, it was a start of a beautiful friendship.

Iris was so lost in her memory that Helena managed to sneak up on her. Helena observed the way her friend was starring off into space, literally. She spoke, "As your friend and a medical professional, I say this with love and knowledge: drugs are bad."

Iris smiled, getting out of her seat and taking position on the monitor desk. "Well, if it isn't my dear friend. Long time, no see."

Helena began typing in commands, "What are you talking about? I saw you last week."

"A Justice League crisis where a megalomaniac tries to take over the world doesn't count." Iris noticed Helena was changing one of the monitor channels. "You're not supposed to do that."

"The Riddler's trial is today. His lawyer's good enough that I think he'll be going to Arkham instead of Blackgate, which means he'll be out in a month."

"Okay, second question, why have you never shown me how to change the channel?"

"Because I know what kind of crap you'd watch." Helena turned her full attention to her friend. "So why are you here?"

Iris grinned widely, "Tell me about the guy."

Helena sighed. "That's what you want to talk about?"

"Well, maybe if you dated more I wouldn't be so interested."

Helena wasn't fooled. "Don't lie to me."

Iris shrugged. "Ok, you're right. You could date like a fiend, and I'd want details of every one. Still, tell me everything. Is he a good kisser? Have you had sex yet? What's he like in bed? Have you meet any of his friends? Or his family? Though I'm not sure he actually has family. How serious is it? Do you love him?"

"I…I…no." Helena was at a lost. Iris became more excited; she'd never seen Helena like this, speechless and unsure. "I don't love him."

Iris nodded, knowingly. "I see. You're falling for him, but not quite there yet."

Helena rose, defensively. "I didn't say that."

Iris was enjoying this, perhaps a little too much, but she'd rarely ever been able to get a real rise out of Helena. "True. Actually, you didn't have much of anything to say, but actions speak louder than words. And he's managed to be in a serious relationship with you for longer than a month, which is practically a super-human feat. And that's coming from someone with super-human speed. So has daddy met him yet?"

Helena rolled her eyes. "Of course not, I actually like the guy. Not that it matters, I'm sure Dad's got a full dossier on him."

"How did dear old daddy bat take it anyway?"

"Surprisingly well. Alfred basically talked him down off the ledge. He barely even brings it up."

Iris' brow furrowed, thinking. "You've been dating this guy for a while now, and Bruce just dropped the whole thing after a talk with Alfred?"

Helena shrugged. "Yeah, basically."

"That's unlike him."

'I know, right?" Helena paused for a moment then her eyes widened, and then settled into anger. She pushed a button to speak with Jason, the current Superman. "Jason, meet me in Gotham in 30 minutes." She got up and said over her shoulder, "Iris cover for me."

She nearly ran to the teleport before stopping and coming back. She pushed the button to speak with Jason again. "And bring your dad along."

* * *

Clark wished Helena had been a bit more specific than Gotham. Though it still didn't take him and his son, Jason long to find her. She was sitting in a quaint outdoor café, in an over-sized hat with sunglasses. Jason recognized her right away, despite her fake French accent. Clark didn't want to dwell on how his son could recognize Bruce's daughter quickly. When she saw them enter she greeted them in an over-the-top fashion, crying hello in French and air kissing their checks before inviting to sit down. She called the waiter over with an airy wave and ordered some kind of coffee Clark couldn't pronounce.

Then she turned and in her normal, no nonsense tone said, "I know you two have been following my boyfriend on my father's behalf and want to know everything you told him. Now."

The waiter reappeared, "Here you are Sophia." He carefully placed the full coffee cups. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Helena held out some money, "Merci. We shall require, how you say, privacy?"

The waiter took the money, "No problem."

Helena's wide smile followed the waiter's departure. When she faced Clark and Jason again the smile was gone and she removed her sunglasses. "Talk now."

Clark found he preferred this kind of treatment from Bruce, his innate chivalry worked against him with Helena. He looked to his son, who had his arms folded and didn't look like he'd be saying much of anything. So Clark began, "Helena, whatever you may think…"

"Don't pander to me flyboy. Or haven't you noticed my lead-lined handbag?"

Clark hadn't, but he still didn't appreciate Helena's rudeness. "You know Helena, most well-raised children respect their elders."

"Respect? You're catering to my father's paranoia by spying on my boyfriend behind my back and you're going sit there and give me a lecture on respect? You've got some balls, Mr. Kent." She said his name with a sneer.

Jason spoke at this, acknowledging her suspicion, "It's not just Bruce. Your relationship could pose a threat to the League."

"How? You know, it's funny Jason, when Iris and Conner were dating, which did actually affect the League with them both being members, this conversation didn't happen." She was only looking at Jason.

Jason stared right back, "I know people, Helena. And he's a dangerous man."

Helena didn't waver. "Good. I like danger."

Jason banged on the table, "Helena, I cannot watch you blindly fall for a guy who's no good for you."

"Do you have a real reason to suspect he's no good for me, or is it just because he's not you, Jason?"

Jason fell silent, so Clark tried to pick up where his son left off, ignoring the new tension, "He was a very hard man to follow, Helena. He's like a ninja. I have superhuman powers and I lost track of him more times than I can remember."

Helena shook her head, replacing her sunglasses, "It doesn't matter." She rose and picked up her bag, which had to be heavier than she let on. "You two will stop following him immediately, and if my father wants more information about what he's like you can tell him to talk to my mother. She's meeting him tonight." She threw some credits on the table. "Coffee's on me. Enjoy it boys."

She left and Jason had yet to touch his coffee. Clark sighed; he wasn't looking forward to facing Bruce with this mess. And was even less eager to see his wife's face, as she had warned him not to do it in the first place. Clark had no desire to tell Lois that she'd been right.

* * *

Iris turned from the court coverage. Helena had been right; the Riddler was sentenced to a term in Arkham. "So how'd it go?"

Helena shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

Iris held of the temptation of asking for a mere moment, "So is Ryan really Selina tonight?"

Helena instantly realized that her so-called best friend had been spying on her using the JLA satellite. "You're as bad as they are." She pointed to the transport. "Get out."

Iris smirked and made her way to leave. It'd been worth it.

*BBB*

"Why are you so nervous?" Helena watched Ryan readjust his tie for the twentieth time.

"I've never done the whole meeting the parents thing." He adjusted his tie again.

Helena laughed removing his hands from his tie and adjusting a final time. "You don't need to be nervous about meeting my mother. She's mostly harmless." She fixed his tie into place. "My father, on the other hand, you may want to prepare yourself for."

Ryan didn't look comforted. "Still, do we have to do this at a such a fancy event?"

"I come from a long line of blue-blooded snobs, Ryan. If you can't handle high society, you might as well break up with me and save yourself the trouble." She looks over her date, he looked very good in a suit. "You clean up nicely." She looked at his hair. "Sure you don't want to get rid of the blue?"

He laughed, finally relaxing. "I'm sure." He took Helena's arm, grabbing the invitation off the table and looking it over once more. "Now what do I need to know?"

"The Gotham museum's Egyptian wing has basically doubled due to its coordinator's (my mother) efforts, and the Wayne Foundation always donates generously to Gotham's fine arts."

He nodded. "Got it." The hotel door closed behind them.

* * *

"You handled the red carpet well." Helena grabbed her date's arm once again now that they were inside. His anxiety was beginning to wear off, and she wondered just how appropriate he'd be around this crowd.

"It's not my first one, I've been to the Grammys and the music teen whatever."

Helena rolled her eyes. "The red carpet may have been the same, but I can tell you the blue-bloods of Gotham are a completely different kind of animal." They entered the room and Helena continued to whisper in her date's ear. "Almost everyone one in this room has money that dates back to the old country."

"Even you?" He'd been joking.

"Yeah, one of my ancestors was a well-known knight up until he began fooling around with some woman he shouldn't have been fooling around with. Could even show you the family crest." She hadn't been.

Ryan stopped, slightly shocked, but hiding it well. "You know, until this moment I don't think I really realized just how rich you were."

She brushed it off with a wave. "Please, I'm barely a millionaire, it's my father who's filthy rich."

"Wow." Ryan chuckled and looked at Helena, with a look that was somewhere between impressed and astonished. "A lesser man would be intimidated."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you're the one on my arm." They shared a smile together.

"Miss Wayne." An older couple grabbed Helena's attention and Ryan used the distraction to excuse himself and find the bar.

When Helena's finished she begins to locate her date once again. She's also on alert for any potential party crashers, as the Harleytwins' and Deathstroke's whereabouts were still unknown. Helena found Ryan speaking perfect French with a foreign financier. She's impressed, but wonders how he knows French. She walks up to him and waits for the conversation to end, when Ryan notices her, he excuses himself from the conversation to rejoin his date. She smiled, "Since when do you speak French?"

"I grew up across the pond, remember? I know all of the European languages. It's helpful, in my chosen career path."

"But how?"

"I've got a good ear, which is also helpful."

She's in awe of him, "I'm impressed."

He gives her a smile worthy of the most shameless of womanizers, "All the ladies are."

She returns to Earth, "I should hit you for that."

He smirks and leans in, lowering his voice, "I may be up for a bit of a spanking."

Helena wished she were more annoyed with him. She hit his chest lightly. "Behave."

He smiled and then did something no man had ever done before. He held her hand, and she let him. They mingled, hands never separating.

* * *

Selina studied her empty wine glass. She knew she shouldn't have another, but figured now was not the time to begin doing what she should do. And if she would be forced into another conversation with one of the board members, she'd need the extra glass. She was exchanging her empty glass with a full one when she heard, "Mom."

It didn't used to be a title that turned her head, but sure enough there was her daughter, looking more beautiful in her midnight blue gown and pinned up hair then Selina felt she had ever looked. She sighed, it was tacky to be jealous of your own daughter for her youth and beauty, but the girl had truly inherited the best of both her parents. Helena kissed her mother's check, careful not disturb her or her mother's make-up. "You look beautiful."

Selina smiled gently, "It's sweet of you to lie, dear. But let's meet this man of yours."

Helena smiled, "I believe he mentioned getting some liquid courage first."

"I already don't like him."

Helen sighed, "I would say you're almost as bad as Dad, but at least you're not having your friends follow him."

Bruce you didn't, but Selina kept the thought to herself. "That you know of."

Helena smiled and Selina noticed a new song starting. Ryan appeared out of nowhere, excited. "Helena, we are dancing to this song."

Selina recognized the song as Styx's "Come Sail Away." She nearly laughed at Ryan's boyish excitement and Helena's mortification. Helena looked at him, horrified, "I can't dance." She held a hand to her mother. "This is my mother, Selina Kyle."

Ryan didn't seem to acknowledge Helena's mother. "You're a socialite and a debutant, I don't believe for an instant that you can't dance. Now come on, it's no 'Renegade,' but it's still a good song." Before dragging his date on to the dance floor he turned to Selina, "I will introduce myself properly in a few minutes, Miss Kyle."

Selina was amused. And watched the pair. It started sweetly enough with him leading her in a tight waltz. Then he began playing her like a guitar, first strumming her back then moving his fingers on her arm. Selina could even see him singing the words into her daughter's ears. She saw her daughter's face and couldn't remember her looking that carefree since she was a baby. The pair ignored the world around them, seeing only each other. Selina nearly began to tear up, recognizing that she was watching a man and woman in love. No wonder Bruce hated Ryan so much; this could end very badly.

When the song finished, Ryan and Helena returned. Ryan took Selina's hand carefully pressing his lips to it, "Miss Kyle, you are stunning." He raised his head. "I'm Ryan Grant."

Selina wasn't one to be won over so easily by sweet talk. "Aren't you a charming creature? Make me wonder what my daughter's doing with you."

Ryan chuckled at Selina's fiery retort. "If my charm was purely superficial, we both know your daughter would've seen through me in an instant."

"True." Selina nodded. "Now tell me, why would a song about aliens and angels, be so exciting for you?"

Ryan shrugged. "Styx is classic, and the aliens and angels are just metaphors, the song is about following your dreams and heart. But actually saying that is so cliché."

"And yet you just did."

Ryan nodded. "I suppose I just did."

Helena asked Ryan, "I thought you were supposed to be getting drinks before."

Ryan looked at his hand as if just noticing it wasn't holding a glass. "I'll go do that." He observed Selina's full glass. "I see you're good. I'll be back shortly."

Selina noticed that Ryan's hand stayed on Helena's lower back longer than necessary. Helena turned to her mother, "Behave, Mother."

Selina gave her best innocent look. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Helena studied her mother carefully. "Right."

Ryan returned and the three conversed easily for about thirty minutes. Helena, knowing she still had to patrol, insisted they had to get going. Ryan turned to Selina taking her hand once again, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kyle."

Selina observed him carefully. "You do play the gentleman well, Mister Grant."

He smiled widely in response. "I assure you it's not just an act."

She smiled in return. "Well then, this Saturday Helena was going to meet me and some of my old friends, if you'd like to come along."

He didn't flinch though Helena's head quickly darted to face her mother's. "I'd love to."

Selina ignored her daughter, still smiling. "You could pick her up at the Manor, meet her father as well."

Ryan still didn't back down. "Sounds wonderful." He kissed Helena. "I'll see you later, lovely." And left her to say good-bye to her mother alone.

Once he's gone Helena leans over to her mother. "The old Rogues and Dad on the same day? You're evil."

Selina shrugged. "Well, I was a villianess."

"It'll probably scare him off."

"If he scares that easily, he's not worth your time anyway."

Helena smiled, shaking her head. "So what'd you think of him?"

"Too gorgeous, too charming and elusive." She nearly laughed. "Reminds me of Bruce."

"You know, I don't like that people keep pointing out similarities between my boyfriend and my father."

Selina put a reassuring hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Sorry, dear. I only meant to compliment your good yet bound to painful taste in men, similar to my own. But it's good to see you in love."

Helena stiffened. "I'm not in love with him."

"I sang that same tune about your father for years. I only hope that your romance isn't a repeat of ours."

* * *

The dockworker couldn't believe his luck. A beautiful woman had wanted a tour of the warehouse for sale, and with the boss out, it fell to him to be responsible for it. He watched her look around the warehouse, her blonde ponytail bouncing lightly as she walked. She turned to face him with a beautiful grin, full of white teeth underneath dark, large sunglasses. "I'll take it."

He smirked. "Great." He extended an arm and said in his most seductive voice, "Why don't we step into my office and work out a payment plan?"

She cocked her head to the side as if not understanding his words. She answered, "Oh, I don't pay for things."

He kept his voice as seductive as possible. "I'm sure we could work out something."

Recognition flashed upon her face and she began to laugh uncontrollably, in a loud hysterical fashion. She continued to laugh as she walked towards him, she grabbing his chin with her thumb and forefinger, "You silly men." She let go and moved back, saying over her shoulder, "What kind of girl do you think I am anyway?"

He began to grow angry at her naïve act. "Listen, lady, you're pretty and all, but my boss…"

She turned and pulled out a gun, now looking supremely bored and slightly annoyed. "I don't care."

He looked unimpressed, knowing his mates had the place surrounded, just in case. "Chick like you don't have it in you to pull the…"

She shot him in the head. Then stepped closer, cocked her head again and really looked at him. Deidre, also known as one of the Harleytwins, removed her sunglasses to see what she'd done without any obstructions. Her sister, Delia, joined her, pigtails bouncing. "Good job, big sister." She also looked at Deidre's handiwork. "Blood is so beautiful when it pools like that, like a crimson halo."

Deidre snapped out of it and looked at her sister, refocusing as if coming out of a daze. "You would know. You're the artist in the family." She handed Delia her gun. "Go make some art, little sister."

Delia grinned, cocked the gun and went in search of other unlucky dockworkers. Deidre walked away from her victim, heels clicking on the concrete floor. Yes, this place would work nicely.

Gunshots echoed outside.


	8. Chapter Seven: No Regrets

**Chapter 7 – No Regrets, Nothing's for Free**

"This is all my fault."

Tim watched Helena pacing in his living room. Meredith had patched up Helena over an hour ago after her intervention in a gang fight. He looked at the clock; it was a good thing he was used to functioning off a few hours of sleep. He remembered when it was Bruce beating himself up over the deaths he believed he could've stopped. He really didn't need to relive the same issues with the daughter. "Helena, it would've happened anyway. It's hardly relevant that at the time it did happen you were experiencing emotions for a man."

She glared at the former boy wonder, and Tim resisted the urge to smirk. "I would've patrolled earlier. I could've stopped them."

It was time to ruin this self-pity with cold hard logic. "Your patrol route wouldn't have brought you anywhere near the docks and nobody knew about it until long after the people became bodies. The only difference it would've made it that you wouldn't have been able to use the Harleytwins as an excuse to sabotage your relationship."

Helena regarded Tim coldly, taking a seat, "Don't talk about my relationship."

One of the reasons Tim had arguably been the best Robin was because of his ability to know when to drop something. This was the time to drop it. "How's the Deathstroke case coming? Has Dick driven you nuts with questions yet?"

Helena shook her head, mostly in frustration, "That man needs a hobby or a girlfriend, badly."

Tim smiled, "I could loan him my kids for a while, that'd keep him busy."

Helena's mood had lifted and she joked with Tim easily, "Didn't he get around in his day? I'm sure we can dig up an illegitimate kid of his own somewhere."

Tim laughed. It always fascinated him how Helena could be so like Bruce in one instant and so unlike him in the next. After his laughter subsided he hesitantly began, speaking quietly even though he knew Meredith had gone to bed already, "You know…if you need help…"

Helena didn't hesitate to interrupt him. "No. You have children."

Tim always felt annoyed that his usefulness was somehow diminished due to his family. "You're never going to have children?"

Helena gave what some might consider a laugh. "Who the hell am I having children with?"

Tim pointed out the obvious. "You have a boyfriend."

She was once more back to regretting her relationship. "I don't know what I was thinking. He would never…"

Recognizing the defensive look Bruce always got when someone mentioned Selina. Tim asked, "You really love him don't you?"

She remained quiet. Tim nodded smugly. It was time for Helena to go and for him to join his wife in bed, but before he left he told Helena, "People can surprise you. I never thought Meredith would understand."

After he'd gone, Helena whispered to no one, "There's a big difference between understanding your past and choosing it for your future."

* * *

Bruce leaned heavily on his cane as he lifted his hand to knock on the penthouse door. He looked around the hallway, lost in memory. Had it really been nearly thirty years since he last stood here? Part of him felt like that number just couldn't be right, that surely it'd only been days, but his bones told the story of the years that had passed.

The door opened swiftly and Bruce looked at Selina, who had (not surprisingly) aged exceptionally well. She was as elegant as ever and her stunning looks could put women half her age to shame. He gripped his cane even tighter, reminded that his own body had not held up to the test of time as well.

Selina stepped aside lightly and opened the door wider to allow Bruce passage inside. He moved past her, as briskly and confidently as he could manage, which was far better then his mind perceived as it was comparing his entrance to the ones when he'd been at his prime. Selina shut the door gently behind him and inhaled deeply before turning to him, "Would you like something to drink Bruce? I have tea or something stronger if you'd prefer." She said the last part with a hint of the naughty smile she'd so often used to unsettle him.

It'd hadn't lost its power, and Bruce stiffened immediately, "I'm fine." He studied the penthouse, finding he recognized little as the place had obviously gone through several redecorations since his previous times here. Not that it surprised him, as Selina had always followed fashions carefully and was never afraid of change. He wasn't sure he could even accurately remember the number of outfits she'd gone through as Catwoman. And though he didn't recognize the modern furnishings mixed in with the antiques, he still saw many traces of Selina's taste and style, and felt confident that he would've been able to correctly identify this place as her home.

Selina allowed him a moment to take in her residence and waited for him to comment or give a standard compliment, but wasn't really surprised when he sat without making any spoken observations. Strange, he hadn't been here a minute and already she was frustrated with him. She was tempted to give a bitter laugh, all these years and Bruce still had the ability to get under her skin like no other man. Selina mentally calmed herself, as she took a seat next to him. She looked directly at him and said, "You had him followed, Bruce?"

Instantly Bruce glared at her, and turned his head from her, scowling. "Not very well."

Selina smiled, "Super twins not so super, huh? Well, the quality of help isn't important."

Bruce turned back to Selina, "You don't understand. It's important. Clark can hear and track a heartbeat from half-a-world away. There's only a handful of people in the world who can escape him, and Ryan Grant is one of them."

Selina sighed. Bruce's paranoia was worse than she feared, but she had to admit it was odd that Ryan was so hard to track. So she decided to take the route of humoring, "So what's your theory, Bruce?"

"He's a highly trained operative, who knows Huntress' identity and is using it against her." He took a breath. "He's looking to harm her in some way, most likely to kill her."

Selina shook her head. "How would he know Huntress' identity?" Bruce stayed quiet, so Selina continued, "And even if he was this deadly, blackmailing figure, why would he go as far as meeting her parents? I'm sure he's had the opportunity before this, that is if he could get away from the bus he lives on with three other men."

Bruce scowled, he knew there were holes in his theory and didn't appreciate Selina poking at them. But he still didn't trust the man. He was too hard to pin down, too hard to find concrete information on. Bruce had been trying for weeks now, and only found the same bits and pieces of the same information that Helena had found: born in the United States, raised in Wales by his grandfather, and joined a band at the age of 15. That was all there seemed to be to know about the man's past. Selina gently cupped Bruce's cheek, "I'm sure you'll be angry for even asking, but are you sure this isn't just you being paranoid because he's dating your little girl?"

"I'm sure there is something off about him. I don't like him."

Selina let go of Bruce and gathered what strength and patience she possessed. In the past she would've dropped it, knowing Bruce well enough to know he wouldn't change his mind. But Selina wasn't willing to through in the towel on this fight for one very important reason. "She's in love with him, Bruce. And I won't have her making the same mistakes we did."

Bruce set his jaw. "I didn't make any mistakes. I couldn't afford to."

"You didn't make any mistakes?" There was an edge of fury in her voice. "Bruce, we ended in screaming and tears. Hell, Bruce, we ended; strangers raised our daughter. But no mistakes were made?" She looked like she was going to go on, but instead inhaled deeply as she rose and resumed in a calm manner, "Bruce, our daughter has a shot at real happiness here, to be Huntress and love someone without her mission consuming her. And if you take that from her, I won't forgive you. She shouldn't forgive you either. Because real parents want better for their children."

Selina walked back into her bedroom, knowing Bruce had no problems with letting himself out. Though she couldn't quite stop herself from looking over her shoulder at the man she once loved. Their eyes connected for a brief moment and the spark, which had created Helena, re-ignited. Then Selina disappeared from Bruce's sight.

Bruce looked to where Selina's bedroom would be and was transported to an earlier time. When they'd fight early in the evening and then Selina would walk to the bedroom, effectively ending the discussion portion of the evening. It was with this thought in his mind that Bruce followed Selina to the bed he'd missed terribly.

* * *

Ryan killed the motorcycle's engine and used his foot to bring down the kickstand. He looked out over the expanse of Wayne Manor behind his sunglasses. Ryan had his own fortune and an impressive flat in London, but nothing compared to this. He marveled at the wealth of the Waynes for a moment before getting off his bike and going to the door to fetch his girlfriend. He pressed the doorbell firmly and Helena answered immediately, which he supposed made sense, as she had to open the gate to let him enter the grounds in the first place. She smiled and took his arm to bring in him quickly. He smiled back despite feeling like he was her high school boyfriend, who needed to be snuck in due to her parents' belief of his bad influence. Though he supposed that might not be that off base. He immediately noticed Helena's causal beauty; she had her hair curled and down (which he'd never seen before) and was wearing tight jeans, black boots and a tank top under a leather jacket. He embraced his role as the evil man, here to steal the father's precious daughter's innocence, and grabbed Helena's hips, whispering into her ear, "You look sensational. So you want to give me a tour, preferably one beginning with your room?"

She laughed softly and turned to kiss him. When she finished he was even more eager to see her room but she pushed him away. "We're already running late. I need to get my sunglasses, wait here."

She left him and once she left, Ryan really looked at the Manor. If he'd been impressed by the size and apparent wealth on the outside, the inside only increased this impression. The large staircase looked like something out of _Gone with the Wind_, and he could only guess as to how many bedrooms were up there. He looked to his right into the study, the bookcases were full and the desk looked appropriately old and expensive, but the thing that stuck out to him was the grandfather clock, which was telling the wrong time. He made a move to investigate further when he heard a stern voice from the staircase, "Hello Ryan."

Broken clock forgotten, Ryan turned to face Bruce Wayne. He noticed the similarities with Helena first, such as the proud, tall stance and self-assured determination in his steps, even with a cane, as he descended the stairs. He also possessed the same high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes as his daughter, and Ryan realized that everything that made her intimidating had come directly from this man. Ryan also noted that the rumor mill was wrong, the old man hadn't completely lost his good looks; they were simply buried under an experienced, battle-fatigued face, much like he predicted he'd look at Bruce's age. Though why a man like Bruce Wayne would look so worn was beyond him. He smiled broadly and extended his hand, "It's very nice to meet you, sir. Helena speaks about you with such respect and affection."

Bruce ignored Ryan's outstretched hand, and searched the younger man's eyes, "I love my daughter dearly. If you were to hurt her in any way, I'd be very upset."

Ryan continued to smile. "I see. Is this the part where you make idle death threats?"

Bruce wasn't amused. "Stop smiling. I'm a very powerful man and don't waste my time with idle threats. I simply want you to be aware of the danger and consequences of your potential actions."

Ryan's smile disappeared. "I understand, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "If you really did, you would've never got involved with her in the first place."

Bruce left Ryan alone and out of Ryan's sight passed his daughter, who stopped, worried about what took place in her absence, "Did you meet Ryan?"

Bruce simply said, "Say hello to your mother for me."

Helena was uneasy about the request and refusal to answer her question but nodded. Bruce nodded as well and continued on his path to what Helena assumed was the Batcave. She rejoined Ryan quickly. He was starring into the study, she said, "Are you ready to go?"

Ryan turned and saw how worried Helena looked. So he took her into his arms and kissed her. When he finished he said, "So, I think I understand why so many are scared of you."

She nodded. "So you did meet Bruce."

"I did indeed."

There was nothing else to say so she went out the front door and Ryan followed. She looked at his motorcycle. "Am I supposed to be riding on the back of that?"

He smirked, "That's the plan. You're not scared are you?"

Helena said nothing but walked to the Wayne garage, as he waited Ryan began to worry he'd said something he'd need to apologize for until he heard the engine. Moments later Helena appeared on her own bike. She stopped, and put down a leg as she asked, "Are you coming?"

He started his own bike, smiling to himself. If nothing else, life was never boring with Helena Wayne. They raced to the house of Harvey Dent and Pamela Isley.

* * *

Selina was the first to hear the racing engines. She wasn't surprised; Helena possessed one hell of a competitive streak. She began to rise to greet her guests when the rest in her company heard the sound, as well. She stopped them from joining her immediately, feeling it would be best to meet the couple alone.

But Eddie insisted on joining her and watched with her on the porch as the two motorcycles raced towards the house. Selina saw that Helena was in front, but Ryan was quick on her tail. Eddie leaned over and asked, "Does this kid even realize what he's in for?"

Selina watched as Ryan took the lead and answered, "Bruce has already had him followed and formed a paranoid theory in which he's trying to kill Helena. If that kid had any idea what he was in for, that bike would be racing the other way."

Eddie smirked and watched as Ryan's motorcycle spun to a stop, a moment before Helena's. The man got off his bike, smiling and threw his arms in the air. "Winner!"

Helena climbed off her bike, not looking very amused, "You cheated."

Ryan placed his arms around her and said, "Nobody cares how you run the race, only on the outcome."

Helena smiled, which Selina though should've been a major tip-off for the young man, and said sweetly, "Really? Well then…" She kicked him in the shin, hard, and threw his arms off her. "It doesn't really count as a victory until you're in the house."

She took off and Ryan hobbled after her, trying to grab and trip her with the hand that wasn't clutching his shin. She beat him easily and he stood for a moment on the porch, and said to Selina, "Your daughter is violent and ridiculously competitive."

Eddie smiled and responded, "She gets that from her father." He smiled at his friend. "Not to say that Selina doesn't have her violent days."

Selina glared at Eddie. But Ryan smiled and extended his hand, standing straight again, "Ryan Grant."

Eddie accepted the hand. "Edward Nigma."

Selina knew that while Helena enjoyed visiting her mother's old friends, she only could stand them in small doses, so she suggested they join her inside. Ryan agreed and motioned for her to lead the way. She heard him ask Eddie, "So is it Edward or Ed?"

"Eddie."

Selina entered the living room and saw Helena sitting on her usual perch on the arm of the love seat, Harvey and Pam arguing over what refreshments to bring (apparently Harvey had suggested something other than water), and Harley Quinn sitting on a chair away from the rest of the group looking out the window. Harley had moved in with Ivy and Harvey for what was supposed to be a few weeks a few years ago. She claimed she was lonely with the girls gone. Of course they all knew what had happened to the girls. Selina even caught Harley watching a newscast about the Harleytwins once. She'd immediately seen the tears and the look of worry and shame on Harley's face. Selina walked over and placed a hand on Harley's shoulder. She turned and said, "They were supposed to be better than this."

Selina had kept quiet. What could she say to comfort the mother of the monsters who tried to kill her daughter?

Selina began to introduce Ryan to everyone, but was sharply corrected when she introduced Harley. "It's Amy. My name is Amy."

Selina felt a little embarrassed as she'd forgotten, but the old habit of never losing face reared its head and she responded, "That's called denial, dear."

The two women glared at each other and Ryan shifted awkwardly. Harley rose and excused herself. Selina wished she could say she was sorry to see the former clown go. She turned back to Ryan and noticed his calculating look. She wondered if he had any idea of the company he was keeping, but as soon as he saw she'd returned her attention back to him, he immediately resumed a look of friendliness. Selina hated to admit it, but Bruce was right, it would be best to keep an eye on this one. "This is Harvey Dent and Pamela Isley, and this is their house."

Harvey shook Ryan's hand, but his other hand kept playing with the prosthetic that covered the damaged side of his face. He hated wearing it, but agreed it was best that he did for this meeting.

While shaking Pam's hand, Ryan complimented the garden he'd seen when he drove up. Selina figured that had been a tip from Helena. Of course, Pam immediately started talking about the various plants and the harmony they created and insisted on a tour.

Pam took Ryan's arm and escorted him out to the gardens. Harvey followed grumbling until Helena caught up and took his with a smile. Selina had seen Pam's garden enough, so she stayed in the parlor with Eddie. She crossed her legs and asked, "So what's your first impression?"

Eddie answered straight away, "Smart, charming and a little off. He'll fit in perfectly." He did a poor imitation of her purr in the word perfect.

She shook her head at his joke and said, "That's what worries me. He fits right in, takes everything in stride. Never mind he's hanging out with former Gotham Rogues."

Eddie began a list on his fingers, "First of all, being Welsh I doubt he knows who we are…"

Selina interrupted, "He's from London."

He waved her off, "He might live in London now, but his accent is Welsh. Number two, with his job, he's probably met worse. And finally, anyone who dates your daughter has to be a little different."

"You're right. I know you're right."

Eddie smiled, "We may be retired, but we're still Rogues, Selina. It's in our nature not to trust anyone."

A moment of understanding passed between the two as they heard Harvey's voice, "…it's bullshit through and through, kid. She was only supposed to stay 'for a while' three and a half years ago!" Eddie and Selina smiled, familiar with this complaint. They saw Harvey enter, escorting Ryan, and warning him, "Don't ever trust a woman, they're all liars and manipulators. Love them, but don't ever trust them."

Selina cock her head at Harvey, "That's some great advice you're giving my daughter's boyfriend, Harvey."

Eddie and Ryan laughed as Harvey stood his ground. "It's true, and better he finds out now."

Pam and Helena entered with water, as Pam refused to add a murdered plant to give it some flavor. They began with small talk, which turned into current events, which inevitably let to Eddie saying, "Rogues today are crap. Total crap. Where's the big show, the glitz and glamour?"

Harvey added, "None of these punks today could've lasted a minute with the Bat."

Ryan said, "I don't know, from what I hear Huntress is just as tough as Batman ever was." Helena smiled at her boyfriend's unintentional compliment. Ryan continued, "The first generation of villains and superheroes were innovators, no doubt, and cannot be touched as the originals in the anneals of history. But the second generation is better, in many cases, as they've incorporated subtly and refinement to their activities. Look no further than Metropolis to see it in action. Laura Luthor has been convicted on nothing, her hands are completely clean, and Superman responds in kind, not making the same "American way" and "Upholding Truth and Justice" speeches so common with his predecessor, instead avoiding the public eye as he saves them."

Harvey shook his head, "The whole point is to go over the top."

Eddie raised his glass to toast in agreement, "Hear, hear."

Ryan shrugged, "Whatever."

The topic turned next to Eddie ranting about the new Riddler, as Ryan's ignorant presence was forgotten, "Have you seen his new costume, kitty? And I got crap for my question mark leotard."

Selina repressed the urge to throttle her old friend.

**

* * *

**

As Ryan retuned from the bathroom, he lingered at a painting in the hall. It didn't look like a print, and the real one had been stolen years ago by…

"You're hiding something."

Ryan turned quickly and came face-to-face with the woman who'd been absent for most of his visit. "Excuse me?"

Harley studied him from head to toe now that she had the chance to really get a good look at him. "I'm professionally trained, I can tell. You keep glancing at Helena when she's not looking, like you're afraid she'll leave you, which implies there's a reason as to why she would."

"How would you know? You left."

She smiled evilly. "We all have secrets, Mr. Grant."

Ryan smirked, "That's true, Miss Quinn."

Harley laughed lightly, "So you do know who we are, dangerous criminals of the past, yet you show no fear, even antagonize us." She stopped, studying him again. "Also strange considering you've been on your best behavior all day, acting properly to impress all the right people. It may imply a split personality."

Ryan shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Defensiveness is often the last refuge."

Ryan's voice rose, "I'm not going to be psychoanalyzed by the Joker's girlfriend."

She smiled sadly. "You kind of remind me of him, you know. You probably suffer some of the same symptoms."

Ryan laughed; the woman still obviously still had some crazy in her. "I am nothing like the Joker, lady."

He began to walk away, but she called out to him, "Really? Tell me, what's your number,

Mr. Grant? Has it reached the triple digits yet?"

He turned around, grinning. "I'm not about to tell you how many women I've slept with."

She smiled wickedly in return, "That's not the number I'm referring to."

He turned white with understanding. Her smile turned into a grin, "That high, huh?"

Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could respond, Helena bounced up to him, "There you are. Ready to leave?"

She noticed how white he was and began to worry, but he recovered quickly. "Sorry, I was just talking with your mother's friend."

Helena regarded Harley coolly at best, "Yes, well we're taking off."

Harley nodded, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ryan."

He still looked vaguely disturbed by her, "I wish I could say the same."

As soon as they are out of earshot he whispered to Helena, "I don't like her."

She whispered back, "I don't either, but she needs somebody. She's never done well alone."

Ryan nodded, but looked back at where they left Harley, deeply concentrated. When they get to the bikes, he's still a little off and Helena asked, "Are you all right?"

He looked at her, "I'm fine. I'm fine."

Helena lightly touched his arm. "What did she say to you?"

He shook his head again, "Nothing. She didn't say anything to me." He took the arm on his and pulled her in, kissing her passionately. When finished he said, "Helena, I…" He paused searching her eyes before settling on his next words, "I'm probably going to be seeing less of you. I've got work to do, with the album and all."

Helena nodded, accepting the new distance easily, almost gratefully.

Ryan got on to his bike and drove away. That was too close. He wasn't supposed to fall for her, especially not as hard as he was beginning to fear.

* * *

Jason always felt like he was trespassing when in Gotham unannounced. Then again, maybe that feeling was a recent development. Ever since Helena had found out about his spying on behalf of her father, she refused to speak with him. And Jason found that he missed his friend. So he decided to fly to Gotham, and now he touched down lightly atop the city's highest building, looking for her silhouette against the night's sky. It didn't take long to spot her and he joined her quickly.

He found her leaning over the edge of a building, the wind blowing her hair and coat back. He'd seen her do this before and it always made him nervous. "Hello Helena."

She blinked, leaning back and turning to look at him. She waited for him talk. His mind suddenly betrayed him and he didn't want to say what he'd come to say so he avoided the reason for his visit, "Why do you do that? You look serene, but you're hanging half off the building. Aren't you afraid of falling?"

Helena smiled softly, like a woman with a secret, "You'll never understand. It's the joy that comes from jumping off a building, knowing you can't fly." She retreated into that dark place of hers that Jason could never reach, looking out to the Gotham skyline. She asked, "What brings you to Gotham, Superman?"

Jason didn't miss that she didn't use his name. Yes, they were in costume, but there wasn't anyone around to hear them. "I wanted to apologize for following Ryan. I've thought it over, and I have no real say on who you date. I'd like to think we're friends, and friends don't do that to each other."

Helena softened slightly. "We are friends, Jason, so the apology is unnecessary." There was a pause in the conversation. "Did you come all the way to Gotham just for that?"

Jason shrugged. "It's not that far for me."

"Right." Another silence passed.

"So how are things with Ryan?"

Helena shifted, she could tell the question didn't sit well with him; it was his too polite upbringing making him ask. "Good. I took him to meet mom's friends today and he handled himself well." Almost too well though she kept that to herself.

"You mean Barbara and Dick?" He smiled at the thought.

"No, I mean Pamela Isley, Harvey Dent, Harley Quinn and Edward Nigma."

Jason didn't hide his shock. "You hang out with old Rogues? But they're evil."

Helena could tell this wasn't taking a turn for the better. "Lacking a certain moral scope doesn't mean someone is evil."

"I can't believe you'd say that. How could you?"

"How could I what? Hang out with my mother's old friends? They're interesting and funny, it's not a burden." He looked at her questioningly. "They once told me a story about how Dad got his feet tangled up on his cape and tripped. You think I'm going to hear about that hilarity from the other side of the fence?"

Jason swallowed. "But, Helena, they're evil. They're the bad guys; you can't fraternize with the enemy. Or are you condoning murder now?"

Helena bristled. "I enjoy listening to their stories. It doesn't mean I condone anything. You see the world too simply, Jason. The world isn't made up of good and evil people, but people who are both. For most people, good and evil is just an inner ratio."

Jason shook his head, and looked out into the night. He spoke softly, "I see the world more clearly than you. You hang out with people like that for too long and they'll infect you."

Jason looked at Helena carefully, and fully recognized her stubbornness on this matter. He looked away again; she was determined to learn this from mistake. He only hoped her mistake wouldn't be too great. "I think Laura Luthor's up to something." And with that the subject was abruptly closed.

* * *

Deathstroke saw the number — it was his employer. He answered, "Hello."

"It's on."


	9. Chapter Eight: Drawn Into Your Flame

**Chapter 8 – Drawn Into Your Flame**

"Dick, this is pointless. You've never beaten me in a video game. What makes you think you'll win now?" Tim hung up his coat, back from his fairly regular dinner with Dick.

"Simple, I'm retired and hate golf. So I've been filling my free time playing Murder Deathmatch 5." Dick even held up five fingers to further illustrate the point. Tim refrained from laughing as he tried to remember where his son kept the gaming system. Dick continued, "Since you're busy running a Fortune 500 company and raising a family nowadays, figured you haven't played in a while. Therefore, you're going down, Drake."

"Please, you've got no chance, old man." Tim decided not to point out to his friend that most of his bonding time with his son was spent playing video games. He'd rather just humiliate him as badly as he did he was a teenager. He'd found and set up the gaming station, but couldn't find the extra controller. He pointed to the couch as he prepared to go to the kitchen, as he'd heard his wife in there, telling Dick, "Have a seat. I've got to find my kid. Maybe he knows where the other controller is."

Dick sat and looked at his friend skeptically, "Kid's not going to be mad about us using his stuff, is he?"

Tim shrugged, "I bought the damn thing. What argument does he really have?" He entered the kitchen and found his son, Paul, and his wife sitting at the kitchen table. Meredith looked pissed and Paul had an ice pack on his right hand and a shiner developing over his left eye. This didn't look good.

Tim knew better than to address Meredith when she was in this kind of mood, so he questioned Paul instead, "What happened, buddy?"

Paul just continued to look at the table as though it was fascinating, so his mother answered on his behalf. "He got into a fight at school today with another boy named Ted Curtis. He had to have two stitches and is suspended for a week." She turned to their son. "What on earth would possess you to do such a foolish thing?"

Paul moved the ice pack off his injured hand, and Tim studied it as his son answered, "Look, everyone knows that Ted's a jerk, and he was picking on some kid half his size. Someone had to make him stop."

Meredith gave her best admonishing mother look, "Well, violence is never the answer. Next time try just using your words." Paul looked ready to say something but kept his mouth shut. Meredith looked to her husband, "What do you have to say about this?"

Tim's eyes hadn't moved from his son's hand. He walked over and took the back of Paul's chair, still studying his injuries, "Make a fist."

Paul looked up, and asked, "What?"

"With your good hand, make a fist." Paul obeyed, curling his left hand into a tight fist. Tim shook his head. "That's your problem. You don't keep your fist that tight when you throw a punch. Here." Tim demonstrated what he was talking about with his hands, "See you keep it loose like this and then roll into it. It's a much more effective punch, plus you won't hurt your hand like you did."

Meredith snapped out of her shock. "Tim! I wanted you to talk to your son about how violence doesn't solve problems, not give him tips!"

Tim straightened, "Sorry." The real problem was who was Tim Drake to give this lecture to anyone? He'd been Robin for years, sought out the position, and knew firsthand violence could be the most effective tool in defending innocents.

Dick walked in at that point. "Hey Tim, do you have any beer?" He then noticed the family moment he interrupted and stopped himself, until he noticed Paul's hand. "What happened to your hand, kid?"

Paul mumbled, "Got into a fight."

Dick studied the injuries a moment longer before looking at Tim, "Did you tell him he has to roll into the punch?" Then he turned to Paul "Seriously kid, you'll break you hand punching with a rigid fist."

Tim waved Dick off, "Yeah, I told him."

Meredith looked at both the men in disbelief, but Paul just seemed confused now. "How do you two know so much about fighting anyway?"

Tim avoided his wife's gaze, instead connecting with Dick's eyes for a moment. Dick backed off, acting as though Tim's son was much younger and asking where babies came from, "Well, I've got to take off and meet up with Helena. See you all later."

Tim glared at a retreating Dick, the coward. But Paul kept at it, "Seriously, why do you and Uncle Dick know so much about fighting?"

Tim glanced at his wife and saw she was looking at him expectantly, "Your son asked you a question."

Desperate for a distraction, Tim looked around the kitchen, asking, "Where is your sister?"

Wife and son answered together, "Out."

Tim sighed and once again deftly avoided the conversation he'd been dreading since Meredith peed on a stick and turned it blue.

* * *

"Earth to Ryan."

Ryan didn't hear his drummer, his mind was still focused on the conversation he'd just had with Helena. It was his last night in town before the band started on a mini-tour prior to the new album's release, and she begged off from seeing him, claiming she was too tired after working a twelve-hour shift.

It was the fifth time she blew him off in as many days. He understood the need to run. Hell, he'd thought of a thousand ways to sabotage their relationship, as it was getting far too serious for him. But still he called, turning into the needy, clingy type he most certainly wasn't. The upcoming time apart would be very good for them, reestablish some boundaries.

The lead guitar player flicked a pick at him, "Snap out of it. We're not done loading the bus yet."

Ryan focused back on his band mates and the task at hand. He picked up the nearest case and brought it closer to the bus for the drummer, Dylan, to load. "I thought whole point of getting famous was so that roadies could do this for us."

The man who flicked his pick, Mark, frowned, "I'm not trusting my Les Pauls to roadies."

Zeke, the other guitar player and other Welshman (along with Ryan), was taking a cigarette break, but couldn't help replying, "That's because you're bloody paranoid."

Ryan laughed along with Dylan, while Mark glowered. Zeke flicked away his cigarette. "I don't rightly understand why we're touring now anyway. We've haven't got a single song for the new album yet."

"Whose fault is that?" Ryan was the only man who didn't jump at their manager's voice. Blaine glared at Ryan, "When are you going to write something, Ryan?"

Ryan ignored him for a moment, loading one of the drums. He then turned with his signature charming smile, "I've been kind of busy, Blaine."

Zeke spoke up at that, "We'd all be busy with a girl like yours." Dylan laughed loudly and fist-bumped his band mate. Mark looked amused and slightly smug, the look he always got when jokes were made at Ryan's expense. Ryan repressed the urge to punch him.

Blaine interrupted Ryan's train of thought, "Regardless, you need to write something."

"Well, Blaine, you've written a few violent, slightly psychopathic tunes in your time, why don't you contribute to the next album?" Ryan said it with a mocking tone, but it was actually quite true. Blaine was known for his dark melodies, the same kind ContraBAND was known for.

Blaine said, "Ryan, may I talk with you in private for a moment?"

Ryan was glad to abandon the menial work and escorted Blaine to his room. Ryan began packing away his own instrument, a bass. Blaine took a seat in one of the chairs, watching. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea for you to keep seeing this girl."

"You were the one who told me I needed a serious girlfriend."

"Yes, but I didn't consider that you would lose your focus." He lowered his voicing menacingly, "It's affecting your work."

Ryan swallowed his first words, "My work is fine."

"Is it?"

Ryan slammed the lid to his case close. "You know, Blaine, it's our last night in Gotham. Don't you have somewhere to be right now?"

Blaine nearly growled at Ryan's tone. Damn him for knowing all of his secrets. "Perhaps, but…"

"But nothing. You have a job to do as well, and I expect it to be done before we leave."

Blaine curled his hand into a fist. "I know what's expected of me."

"Good." Ryan faced his manager with a smile once again, but there was no charm this time, "And I was serious about the song writing. Since I'm suffering some major writer's block, I think you should be able write something for our upcoming tour."

"Perhaps inspiration will strike."

"Indeed." Ryan smiled knowingly.

Ryan walked away with his usual swagger and Blaine curled his fist. That boy knew whom he was crossing; he should be far more frightened to order him around lightly. Perhaps some revenge needed to be taken.

* * *

Helena was surprised to find Dick sitting at the Batcomputer as she toweled off from her work out. She threw her used towel down and yelled to him, "You know, the Batcave is not your personal hiding spot."

Dick turned, "You should look in the mirror when you give that kind of advice, Hels." Helena scrunched her nose at the nickname. "Barbara told me that this was Ryan's last night in town. Shouldn't you be spending it with him?"

Helena didn't let his accusation faze her. She leaned around him and had the computer map her patrol route for the evening. "As much as I enjoy our little talks, why don't you tell me why you're here?"

"I have another Deathstroke theory."

Of course he did. It was all Dick talked to her about anymore. She perched her dripping body on the desk near the computer, crossing her legs, "Do tell, as I have nothing better to do than listen to your Deathstroke theories."

Dick's brow furrowed as he looked over and saw her very exposed legs. "Don't you think you should put some clothes on?"

Helena gave her best naughty smile and leaned forward exposing a generous amount of cleavage to match her legs, "We're both adults, Dick. I think we can control our baser urges." Her foot danced lightly on his thigh. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be my big brother?" She brought her foot up higher. "My _very_ big brother."

Dick stared at the tiny foot on his thigh for a moment and tried to stop the disturbing thoughts. He then looked up at Helena, "Aren't you supposed to have a boyfriend?"

Helena stiffened, immediately straightening her back and removing her teasing foot. She folded her arms. "Dick, just tell me what you want."

Dick turned to the computer and pulled up a map of Gotham. He then highlighted the old subway system that had fallen to the wayside in the advent in hover technology. "I think I've figured out where he's been hiding."

Helena could guess where this was going. She took a quick look at the map; it appeared to show at least twenty miles of subway tunnels. Dick continued, "The old subway system would provide a perfect hideaway, but also give him access to the entire city. Besides, Deathstroke did always have a fondness for underground lairs."

Helena held up a hand, stopping him. "I already see two flaws in this theory. First, this Deathstroke is not the same one you battled."

Dick interrupted, "You have no solid proof of that."

Helena rose from her perch, "Fine. Point two: Deathstroke has an unknown alter ego. He has no reason to hide out underground all day."

"It's still worth checking out."

Helena reached her limit. "No, it's not. I refuse to chase after your obsession, Dick! I'm not going to spend the entire night going through abandoned subway tunnels because of your half-baked theory. Certainly not while there are real criminals roaming the streets. I'm going to patrol as I always do. End of discussion."

She turned to get changed, but Dick rose and followed her. He yelled, "You're just like him, you know that? You refuse to follow any plan that's not your own, refuse to take any help." He spat his last, repeated words. "You're becoming more like the old man every day."

Helena threw over her shoulder, "That only works on people who consider it an insult."

She changed and when she emerged she saw that Dick still hadn't moved, nor had his mood shifted or his determination wavered. She continued her way to the Batmobile, but said, "Go ahead and forward the map to Barbara to patch in to the system. I refuse to chase nothing, but it could still prove useful."

Dick nodded, knowing it was as much as she would ever concede. He may have said it out of anger, but it was true that Helena was morphing into a female version of Bruce. She only needed an extra dose of paranoia and to begin destroying any relationships that she actually valued, and then she truly would be Bruce Wayne: Batman, the sequel (this time in female form).

* * *

"Remind me again why we're watching his operation, but not busting it?"

Sometimes Huntress wished she could turn off Oracle's communication channel. "Triboni's here personally tonight. I want evidence."

"Something his lawyers can't sweep under the rug and pawn off on some nobody thug?"

Huntress didn't bother with affirmation, watching more illegal weapons enter her city. She shifted her weight.

"Are you sure you're not just avoiding Ryan?"

She was taken aback, it was unusual for Barbara to talk with Helena in this way; usually they were only Oracle and Huntress. "That has nothing to do with it."

The other woman was skeptical. "You know the world's not going to end if you admit you've got feelings. It's what makes us human. And most people are happy to find love."

She'd been avoiding that word. Love. She checked the clock on her viewscreen. "It's been nearly forty minutes." Then she saw Triboni exit the warehouse and enter his limo.

Huntress prepared to leave as well, but Barbaba was still speaking in her ear, "You really do love him don't you? You're the least emotional person I've ever known, your father included, and it's affecting you this badly? It's got to be love."

Huntress stopped, wanting to stay just to prove a point when she caught a flash of something. "Oracle, opposite roof."

Huntress could tell it was Oracle who was replying now, "Nothing's on surveillance."

"I'm going to check it out."

"Got it. Be careful."

Huntress knew the caution was almost automatic by now, but she still had to bite back a retort. She swung over, unseen by the gangsters below. Her senses were on full alert as she approached the spot she'd seen…something or someone. She investigated the spot, switching her goggles back on. There were no initial traces of anything useful, but she continued looking. So busy looking for evidence of who'd been there, she was surprised by the deep voice that remained, "Hello there."

Over her right shoulder, she saw him, Deathstroke. A batarang followed her eyes, but he dodged it with a laugh and vanished from sight again. She took a defensive pose and palmed another batarang. She thought through all of the files on Deathstroke that Dick forced upon her. She recalled Deathstroke didn't usually play with his prey when on a mission, but did appreciate a worthy opponent. Though she believed this was a different Deathstroke then the one she'd read about, she also doubted the new didn't apprentice the former, as the old Deathstroke was known for taking in trainees and wouldn't stand for someone else to use his name without his permission. So the fighting styles should be similar. The knowledge didn't comfort her, as Bruce acknowledged that Deathstroke was capable of fighting him to a standstill. She saw movement and threw.

Deathstroke leaped off the building, shooting most of the thugs as he fell. He threw out a zip line to control his fall, landing on top of Triboni's limo. Huntress followed, disliking that she had to save a scumball's life. She landed in front of Deathstroke. "What do you think you're doing?"

She got her first up close look at him. He was tall with two gun holsters on his legs, the guns in his hands, and a sword strapped to his back. Combat boots with knife on the side of the left one, tight black pants, more knives at the waist, tight black top as well, leather gloves, with some silver armor throughout, and finally the blue and black mask (including two black eyes) that covered his head. He inclined his head, presumably to check her out as well. He holstered his guns. "I have a target. I suggest you stay out of my way."

The limo began moving, the people on top didn't budge, bracing for the impact. Huntress said, "You should've stayed out of Gotham."

He slowly straightened his head and began to circle her, "You really are as beautiful as they say." He swung out his sword, "Now let's see if the rest of your reputation is deserved as well."

He attacked first thrusting his sword straight towards her, and she dodged it. The moving vehicle proved to be no hindrance to either opponent. She unsheathed knives from where they rested against her thighs, and blocked his next attack with them. He relinquished. He stood back for a moment, cocking his head, "I am impressed."

She twirled her knives. "I try."

She thought she heard him chuckle at that. He attacked again, and blocked and parried. It wasn't long before their battle resembled a well-rehearsed dance between two masters. She'd attack and he'd flip over her without trouble. He'd bring his sword down on her and she'd bend impossibly to miss the blade. Their battle surface would take a sharp turn and both would brace themselves so they didn't lose their footing. Then Deathstroke broke off, "That's enough of that."

He slammed his sword through the roof and Huntress didn't realize what he was doing until she heard Triboni scream within. Immediately used her knives as leverage to swing herself through a window, narrowly missing a passing truck. Her presence did nothing to calm down the bleeding mobster, but she ignored his fear, throwing him down to the floor. Deathstroke attacked with his sword again, this time breaking through the sunroof and joining Huntress and Triboni. She kicked Triboni back, "Stay behind me." She activated her bow staff.

Deathstroke chuckled again, "Really, hero, I tire of the game. I'd hate to have to kill you as well."

She smirked, "What do I have to fear from you? Some nameless thug got the drop on you. How is the head by the way?"

She could tell from the way he stiffened that it was true. Her smirk grew into a grin. He tightened his grip on his sword and threw all of his strength and weight behind his blow. Huntress used it against him, deflecting him using his own momentum to throw half of him out the opposite window. He climbed back in quickly, but not before a passing car caused him to drop his sword. He swore, "Damn."

He bent quickly, and threw a knife at the mobster. Huntress stepped in and deflected it. Deathstroke swore again, and moved to tackle her. He pinned her quickly and held her wrists to force her staff out of her hands. She dropped it, but brought her legs around his to force a flip. But his strength wouldn't allow it. "No," he cried forcing her back down. He brought his face to the side of hers, "You have impressed me." He shifted in a way that made Huntress aware that the position they were in could probably be found in the _Karma Sutra_. She stiffened. He noticed and teased her with a threat, "I wonder what the great Huntress tastes like." He pulled back his head to study her face. "Tell me, has anyone popped your cherry yet or are they too afraid of your great father?"

His weighted words made her feel cold. She brought her head to his to knock him back. Taking the opportunity she escaped, grabbed Triboni and dove out of the limo. They landed hard on the pavement, and Huntress stood quickly to throw them out of the way of oncoming traffic. The mobster growled, "You bitch! Are you trying to kill me?"

She looked at him, "I'm sorry. Did you want to stay in the limo with the assassin trying to kill you?"

He growled again, picking himself up without another word. A crash up the road drew both their heads. Huntress didn't need to see what happened, she knew the driver was dead and Deathstroke was coming. She grabbed the mobster again, aiming at Batline to the rooftops, "Come on."

Once they landed, she began to run, dragging Triboni behind her. "Move faster."

He pointed to his still bleeding leg. "I'm injured."

She scoffed, "You're also fat, out-of-shape and need to quit smoking." She stopped them at the point where they'd have to jump. She knew she wouldn't be able to throw him that far or jump with him holding on. She hid him as best she could and bandaged him so he wouldn't bleed out. She stood again, "Stay here."

He gripped her hand before she could move away. "What if he comes for me?"

She tore her hand from his. "I'm counting on it." She went to the roof's edge staking out the territory. "Oracle, I need a perimeter."

It wasn't Oracle who answered. "Deathstroke isn't going to fall for this trick."

Huntress now wished she had punched Dick before she left. "Get off the line."

Bruce's voice joined his son's, "He's right. Deathstroke is smarter than this."

Huntress found a good position and made her way to it. She answered the men in her family, "I don't expect him to fall for a trick. I expect him not to back down from a challenge." She took position and then to shut them up she said, "How many traps did you two walk into, knowing there was a trap, but counting on your skills to cash in the check your egos' wrote?"

They answered in union, "That was different!"

Oracle spoke up at this point, "That's true, with you two the bait was usually either women you loved, innocent victims or each other rather than vile mobsters."

As predicted the voices quieted. So Huntress waited for her prey, engaging her lens once again to spot any snipers. There. She was off again.

* * *

Deathstroke felt the rifle settle into the crook of his arm. The sniper rifle was just another weapon that became an added appendage when he used it. So familiar to him that his focus could be elsewhere as he took aim, for he knew Huntress wouldn't concede so easily. The target was in sight, the gun in perfect position, and his finger pulled the trigger. Out of nowhere a whip grabbed his barrel, pulling his shot far right. He managed to see Triboni jump from the shot before the scope was ripped away as well.

Damn it. Twice someone had gotten the drop on him in this Godforsaken city. This would be his first and last Gotham job. The money wasn't worth the trouble. He turned to face Huntress, who was wrapping the whip around her waist.

He checked her out again. Gotham was horrible, but she might be worth seeing again. Gorgeous, skilled and powerful with controlled anger rolling off her in waves; yes, she definitely piqued his interest. He looked at his fallen gun, "You made me miss."

She cocked a hip. "Don't expect an apology."

He began to circle her, "Tell me, where on earth did you get a whip? You weren't wearing it before."

She circled him as well, "Do you really care?"

He shook his head. "Just making small talk. Distracting you."

"Impossible."

"Really?" He pulled on the invisible string he'd managed to get around her legs, and Huntress fell hard. He was upon her instantly, ridding her of any weapons he could find. He held two up and flirted with his captive, "Just so you know, a whip and handcuffs are a bit to fast for me on a first date."

Unbeknownst to Deathstroke, behind her back Huntress had activated the razor points on her gloves to cut the cord trapping her. When he leaned down again, she forced him down to the side of her, smashing his head in the roof as she rolled to the side. He attacked her quickly and ruthlessly. She kept up with him, until a backhand caught her across the face sending her to the ground. He gave her no time to catch her breath, grabbing her by the neck and throwing her against the nearest wall.

"Why are you still fighting me? You're out of weapons, and I'm armed."

"Don't be so sure." He looked down and saw she was holding a batarang against his side, pressing as though it were a knife.

He grinned, "That could kill me, superhero."

"No. It's positioning will miss all vital organs, it'll just hurt like a bitch. Of course that's assuming you stop the bleeding within a few hours."

"You sound like a doctor."

"In a job like this, a girl's got to know how to stitch herself up."

He grinned again. His face was inches from her as he responded in a deadly whisper, "The sudden pain and blood loss wouldn't stop me in time from snapping your pretty little neck." He felt the blade at his side back off just slightly. He took the opportunity to study his opponent. She had the most captivating blue eyes, the kind you could drown in. An impulse entered his mind and he saw reason not to indulge in it like the villain he was.

If she'd known his intentions, Huntress would've plunged the Batarang into his side regardless of the possible consequences. Seeing the smirk under his mask would've given her a hint. As it was, she had no idea what his intention was when he lifted the bottom half of his mask, even as he brought her closer and kissed her.

She was so shocked she forgot to not kiss him back. She barely noticed when he pressed hers to make her drop her weapon, or when he brought the arm around his neck. In fact, once there, she used it to bring him closer.

Then she realized what she was doing, and her eyes opened in horror. While he was still distracted, she kneed him hard and ran from him.

He spit out a mouthful of blood and replaced his mask. He looked to Triboni's hiding place, and unsurprisingly the man was long gone. He then looked in the direction Huntress ran away from him.

She certainly was one hell of an adversary.

* * *

Back in the cave, Bruce and Dick waited for Huntress to return. Dick was pacing, while Bruce simple glared into the distance. From her vantage point, the camera on top of the Batcomputer, Barbara laughed at the image they produced. "You two look a father and older brother waiting for the daughter/little sister to come home from her first date with a boy."

Dick answered her with an uncharacteristically serious tone, "She's not on a date. She could be dead."

Barbara knew it was the truth. Hours ago, Helena had switched off any and all communication. She often did so after a grueling battle, as she needed time to 'switch back to neutral' as she called it. The sun had risen twenty minutes ago and with it, Helena should be on her way back. They were all anxious, as they were unsure what the outcome of her final confrontation with Deathstroke had been. Though Barbara knew Triboni lived, as he'd been entered into the hospital about ten minutes after Deathstroke and Helena's fight.

The roar of an engine filled the Cave, and they all looked in the direction in which their hero would return. As soon as she hopped off of her bike, Helena made a straight path to the uniform room. That is, until she noticed her audience. She held up a hand to them, "Not now."

Dick yelled, "What do you mean not now?"

Helena yelled back, "Which word didn't you understand?"

Bruce wasn't about to be put off. "No. Tell us what happened."

Helena stopped, her back facing the rest of them. Her head lower and she whipped off her mask and cape; throwing them into the closet as she walked over the seat before the Batcomputer, ready to be grilled. Barbara had to admire the younger woman.

Helena sat causally, "What?"

Bruce and Dick looked to one another, to see who'd insist on asking the first question. Bruce won. "Who won the fight?"

Helena removed her gloves. "Weren't you the one who told me to beware seeing the fights as only having a victor and a loser?" She threw her gloves away from her.

Barbara couldn't see the men properly, but knew what their looks would say. It was nearly impossible to get a straight answer when Helena was this frustrated. Still, Dick ventured to try. "What can you tell us about Deathstroke now that you've observed him personally?"

Helena turned to the computer and before touching the screen, said, "Sorry Barbara." Barbara figured Helena was going to close the window, but she only minimized the Oraclecam. Barbara changed her own desktop to show her what Helena was doing. The young woman was bringing up the files on Deathstroke only with video footage captured from her goggles of the villain she encountered tonight. There really weren't any good shots of him.

Dick asked again, "What do you know about him now?"

Helena continued to work. "I was right. He's about two inches taller than the last Deathstroke, among other things."

Bruce asked the next question, "What other things?"

Helena stopped working. For a moment she did nothing but stare at the screen. Barbara couldn't tell if she was staring at the image of the Deathstroke she'd faced or just looking forward. In either case, Helena then moved to remove her boots, leaving them on the floor beneath the desk. Then she took off the belts around her thighs.

Dick turned Helena round to face him. "Helena talk to us! How do you know?"

She looked up at him for a moment, before looking down to remove the belt around her waist as well. She stood and dropped the belt and the tools found on it on her seat. She said, "I'm going to shower and then check my injuries."

She began to walk away, but Dick grabbed her arm. "Wait."

Helena grabbed him just as roughly back, and Barbara could feel the heat of her gaze without even being in the room. Dick didn't let her anger deter him, "How can you know it's not him?"

She met his eyes evenly, "He kissed me. And while the former Deathstroke certainly like his women young, I think even he would flinch from an attraction to a woman young enough to be his granddaughter." She looked at both men. "Happy now? Got your answers?"

"How can we know for sure?"

"My lips are still tingling. Is that enough proof for you?"

Both men's jaws dropped, and Helena went to the computer to lean over the desk, now even more frustrated then when she entered the Cave.

Once the men left, still unable to comprehend this new information, Barbara asked Helena, "Was it really that good?"

Helena reached to the screen. "Good-bye, Babs."

Barbara's screen went black. She bit her lip in worry. This seemed so familiar, Helena's reaction reminded her too much of Bruce's reactions to Catwoman. But Deathstroke was a different creature than Catwoman, he had no rule against killing, in fact that was his primary function. It was a dangerous game, too dangerous. Barbara was tempted to call Ryan and order him to visit Helena, as the woman could use a much less complicated man right now.

But she didn't, knowing Helena well enough that she'd probably want to take care of it herself.


End file.
